


The peregrine or: how I learned to stop worrying and get over an alien invasion

by osmiumpeach



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2018-11-28 07:42:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 75,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11413323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osmiumpeach/pseuds/osmiumpeach
Summary: A hork-bajir, a telepathic hawk saving a life, one injured peregrine falcon, a little bit of paranoia and a sad social truth about being homeless. Those were the ingredients needed to allow Christopher live one of his childhood dream while facing the ultimate identity crisis.





	1. the Chase

My name is Christopher.

And I am dead.

This wasn't one possible scenario amongst the others.  
It was the one and only possible event in the near future, future that was, according to the crude estimate I could do, two or three minutes at most.  
And it was on a Sunday. Bad things were NOT supposed to happen on Sundays, they were supposed to happen on Monday.  
The worse thing is that I would never know how I would die. Well, actually, I knew how I would die: slashed into bit by some sort of blade. What I didn't know is what would kill me.  
It looked like some sort of fast running green thing covered in blades. There was no way that, whatever it was, came from this planet we call "Earth".  
On a "bright" side, not only I would die knowing aliens existed, but I would die because of an alien.  
I don't mean that dying is fun but you've got to admit, "being killed by an alien" is a pretty badass way to die!  
Anyway.  
I'll tell you what's happening right now, as I guess it's the only reason you're still reading this (the other possible reason being that you are sadistic and want to read how I will die).

  
It all started when I received a job offer in another town, not really far from where I used to live. The salary was quite interesting and, most importantly, I was sure to love the job. Unfortunately, the town's tourism office never mentioned "possibility of being chased by an alien specie covered in razor-sharp blades" when I called them before taking the job. What a bunch of liars.  
After a week or two in town, I had decided to take a small walk in the forest nearby, hoping to spot some cool birds in it and to catch a few fishes in a lake which, supposedly, was a very nice fishing spot. I thought it would be a nice way to enjoy the remaining days I had before my first day at the job.  
The walk in itself didn't take long. Not that it was a small forest, not at all, it's just that it didn't took long to be spotted by these aliens; after that, the walk was over and replaced by the run of my life (literally).  
My hopeless attempt to escape a certain death was made even harder by the terrain I had to run in: a forest. It might not seem much, but I had jump over fallen logs, avoid trees, duck under low branches I hadn't noticed before and, worse of all, run away from an alien who seemed to be born for running in a forest.  
You know what? The alien I keep talking about will, from now on, be designed as a "Gillette", after the razor company. Hey, just because I'm minutes away from a gruesome death doesn't mean I can't have a strange and bad taste sense of humor!

I managed to trip on a root and fall in the most ridiculous way imaginable. Great. Not only I lost a great part of my (already small) advance, but I also realized how weak my legs had become during the death race. The only thing allowing me to even make a step was the level of adrenaline in my blood, which, frankly, was probably high enough to make Epipen jealous of my body. After stepping up, as fast as I could (i.e. slowly), I start to run again.  
In a desperate move, I start to call for help. Yeah right. Like if anyone could help me. Or if anyone *would* actually try to help me: a razor blade covered alien can be scary sometime. Despite that, I still called for as long as my lungs allowed me.  
That didn't stop me from staying ahead. Well, until I made the stupid mistake of looking back to see how much time I had (30 seconds or so at most) and trip for the second time.  
Dammit.

If this were a movie, I would have considered this fall as the "victim trip on the ground as he run away from danger" cliché.  
If it was just for me, I would have stayed down and use the last few seconds of my life to make peace with myself, but my self-preservation instinct was too strong. I stepped up (again) and ran (again). At this point, I couldn't think. All my action were just reflects and automatism. It was like if my body was an airplane and my brain activated the autopilot and went for a hot coffee.  
Even if my perception of time was heavily distorted by the fact that I was about to die from a Gillette attack, I knew I was about 10 seconds from a certain death. That is, assuming the gillette that thought I was lost and was VERY motivated to help me find my way was not the explanation for this.  
A hawk I hadn't noticed before attacked the Gillette. Well, to be accurate, I think it was a hawk. I was so tired and breathless that I could confuse a dog with a small sized deer.  
Frankly, I didn't cared at all about which specie it was, as long as it allowed me to gain some terrain. Especially since I was starting to suffer from hallucination.  
I don't if it was the lack of oxygen in my blood, the stress or the fact that I WAS ABOUT TO DIE BECAUSE OF AN ALIEN, but I started to hear the hawk talking to me. It gave me directions on where I had to go to survive. I knew the hawk wasn't talking to me (duh). It was obviously my subconscious (or whatever psychology concept explains it) saying ideas I hadn't thought of, probably by using fragment of memory I had about this place.  
I decided to I follow his directions: I was dead anyway, so I may as well take the very small chance that my bad psychology hypothesis was true.

And it worked.  
I somehow managed to outrun the gillette and find a safe place to hide. The hawk (aka: the hallucination) then explained to me I had to keep my mouth shut and not talks about this to anyone, if I wanted to stay alive and/or keep my free will (paraphrased).  
I saw a cave I could use as a temporary hiding place and walk clumsily in it.  
Once inside, I felt sick. Very sick. Sick to the point I vomited on the ground a few seconds after I managed to get out( which was fortunate since I didn't want to have the smell of whatever stuff I vomited in the hiding place).  
Never, in my whole life, I had been so breathless. I didn't even know it was possible to be breathless like I was and still being alive. I was sure that, even by breathing pure oxygen, I wouldn't be able to talk.  
I sat down in on a small patch of grass that looked more comfortable than the rest of the cave and waited for a time that felt extremely short and extremely long at the same time.  
It was night when I finally decided to go out: I wanted to be sure that no space razors were anywhere around here.  
I walked to my small apartment I rented(fortunately, it was on the first floor) and went straight to the bed.  
I fell asleep the very second I touched the bed.


	2. The Bite

The next morning, which was actually the next afternoon due the amount of sleep I had, was (or should have) my first day at work.  
I had managed to miss it.   
Great.   
What did I said about bad things happening on Mondays?  
I was in a two weeks long probation for the job which meant that, unless they were ready to accept “being attacked by an alien” as a valid reason for being late (hint: they probably don’t), I had no job anymore.

But it didn’t bother me. Not even twelve hours ago, I nearly died from an alien attack and I was only alive because of some hallucination taking the form of a (real) hawk talking to me in order to give me directions and urge me to keep my mouth shut and talks to no one about this if I wanted to keep my free will (as if some kind of kind of worldwide conspiracy was taking place). As you may understand, job security was not high on my priority list.

Wanna know the weirdest thing? I sort of believed the “hawk” really talked to me. Even if I knew it was just a hallucination.   
Wanna know the second weirdest thing? I also believed that the “losing my free will” part meant something more than “you’ll get locked up somewhere and fed up with a lot of antipsychotic drugs”.  
Wanna know the third weirdest thing? I still believed the above even if I knew it was pure paranoia.

I decided to stay in the room for the day. After all, it’s not like I had anything better to do (and, also, I just needed to take a day off).  
The remaining of the day was mostly spent in wondering if what happened yesterday was real or, just like the talking hawk, a hallucination and thinking of a way to know it. 

It was only at the end of the day that the solution appeared to me: going back there and look for any proofs of the chase (which was basically looking for a clear path of tree cut down by the walking razor); the next morning (which, unlike yesterday, wasn’t an afternoon) was the day I took the stupid decision to look for the Path.

 

I prepared a basic lunch and took some bottles of water and shoved them in a backpack. I bought a couple of bus passes and went for a dangerous and irresponsible walk in the forest. If my life were a film, I would say the character ought to be extremely stupid to go back to the forest even if he knew another death race could happen.   
It took me some time to find where the chase took place for during the chase because I hadn’t taken note of my position; for some very weird reason, it wasn’t my top priority at the time. The “investigation”, once I saw the Path, didn’t took a lot of time.  
There was no doubt the Chase had been real: there was a large and clear trail of fallen trees, destroyed logs, fallen branches and large footsteps (I even saw where I had fallen during the Chase).  
After standing in shock for a few minutes (who wouldn’t?), I headed back to my apartment as there was no way I could find anything useful with my current emotional state. On my way back, I started to think of various way I could have more information on what happened the last few days as I wondered who were these aliens, where did they lived, since when were they here and, most importantly, why no one had seen them before.  
I quickly grew paranoid and concluded the only possible reason no one had seen them was that the government was involved.   
The result of this paranoia?  
Well, not only did I began to be scared that a secret agent dispatched from area 51 would come for me, but I also took the stupid decision to investigate further: at the time, I was sure the only to be safe was to discover the whole truth about this.   
I was sure I had to know all the details.   
I was sure that, if I succeeded, the government would not try to get me, as they would fear I would reveal all of this should they failed to catch me at their first try.

I “knew” I had to investigate. I “knew” my life depended on it. I also “knew” the government would not try to catch me if they thought I wasn’t investigating. All I had to do was not being seen investigating.   
All I had to do now was to turn invisible.   
Well, not invisible in a “no one can see me” definition but more in a “no one will look at me” definition.  
I quickly find out the best way to achieve invisibility was to make myself dirty. Literally.   
I did myself a bad haircut, put a little bit of toothpaste in my hair to make them look like I hadn’t washed for years, added some random gray-ish make-up on my face, reached for a bottle of vodka I had bought not so long ago, and washed my mouth with it before using some of it to rub my face a little.  
Finally, I took care of my clothes: I cut some small parts of it and used some other clothes to “patch” the holes I had made in the first clothes. I then poured a small amount of vodka on it too.

The result was perfect: anybody looking at me would think I was just a poor homeless guy with a bad habit of drinking low quality alcohol.  
The sad truth is this: everyone ignores a homeless person. No one look at them in the face. Everyone just walk away and make sure not to look at them, especially when they ask for some money.  
Moreover, even if I walked or looked in some weird places, no one would bother to ask why I was doing it. They would just accept “he’s a drunk homeless dude” as a valid explanation for my weird behavior and think I was probably searching for scraps I could sell to make some money.

Once, in New York, a small group of persons decided to pass themselves as homeless as part as an experiment (I don’t remember which one, unfortunately); one of the saddest result of the experiment was that even members of their own family passed in front of them without recognizing them: since even a family member couldn’t recognize a homeless, there was no way anyone in this town could recognize me, especially since I moved in just a few weeks ago. The fact that nobody would even care to look at my face would help a lot my investigation.

 

It was now time to investigate.   
I just had to decide which part of the town was the best place to start.   
After a few seconds of thinking, I realized I should have thought of this before making the “costume”.  
Welp.   
It was too late, anyway.   
I had to find somewhere to go before the alcohol evaporated, as it wouldn’t allow me be pass as an alcoholic anymore.  
It took me less than a minute to take a decision: since I had no idea where to start the investigation, I chose to set up my cover. Which meant I would only go outside and act, as best as I can, like a homeless.

Back then, I thought it would be an easy task. I thought all I had to do was to wait somewhere and ask for some spare change.  
It only took me a few minutes to learn it wasn’t that easy. Asking for money wasn’t enough: anybody could do that. I had to act like if the money I hoped to receive was of great value, which wasn’t really the case for me as I already had enough money to have somewhere to sleep and something to eat everyday.   
I didn’t really like the experience. You may think I disliked it because of the conditions I had to set myself into, but the real reason is hard to explain. I can’t really think of a way to describe it; well, I could but not in a decent manner.  
I can only tell you it was hard, especially on the psychological point of view.  
Everyone just ignore you. No one even look at you. They barely acknowledged my existed.  
You may think any decent persons would, at least, give something to another human being in need or, at the very least, not make a lame attempt to look like he hadn’t saw the person in need, but no. Not everyone is a good person.   
In fact, most of the persons I asked for money ignored me; it was even worse once I sat on the ground and begged for money to every passerby.   
I was sure no one would even lift a finger to help if I died right in front of everyone: they would probably blame the alcohol for whatever happened during my death and walk away.  
It might not seem much, but seeing everyone pretend they don’t even know you exist is extremely painful.  
And a real homeless had to endure it every day. Every week. Every month. Every years, sometime.

 

I guess it was 21 hours (9 PM, if you don’t know how to use the 24h format) or so when I took the Decision. It was after my first day of acting likes a homeless and, in order to do better the next day, I thought it would be a good idea to take a night outside. I hoped it would help me “know” more about what being a homeless feel like.   
For some reasons, I chose some sort of abandoned construction site as my “camping site”, hoping I could use some of the structure as a shelter against the natural elements. 

Once there, I scavenged around the site a little, hoping to find anything that could make my sleep comfortable (or, at the very least, to make it possible).  
I started to walk around the building and, after a quick but difficult search, took some old boxes that I could use as a sheet, a few wood planks I could use as a primitive bed and, finally, I grabbed some pieces of plywood I planned to place around me in order to protect myself from the wind.   
Installing the “bed” was very easy. So was installing the “sheet”. The piece of plywood was the hardest part since they were very light and thin: they couldn’t hold up by themselves. I, at first, tried to use some rocks to make them stand but, at the end, I had to use some leftover cinder blocks.

By time I had finished my “room”, it was already 23 o’clock (11 PM).   
I was about to go to sleep when a small sound attracted my attention. It sounded like a bird or something. As I turned around to see if I could see the source of the noise, my eyes caught a small movement around the (probable) location of the noise I recently heard. Slowly, I walked toward a small hole I hadn’t noticed earlier in which a bird looking like a peregrine falcon was hiding.  
My curiosity took over and, as I tried to have a better look at the bird, I quickly understood it was injured. I guess it explained why a bird would hide in a hole.

As I looked at the falcon more closely, hoping to know more about its injuries, I noticed some sort of small cube right next to the falcon. Since it was blocking the way to the bird, and also because I had to be sure the cube was not hiding any other injuries, I slowly moved my hand toward the cube while trying not to look like a threat for the bird.   
I ignored all the threatening sounds the bird made. I ignored how it tried to look as threatening as it could be despite his injuries. I did not cared that it would probably bite me at the first occasion he would have.   
I knew I should have called the rehab center to tell them about the injured falcon: after all, they were the professionals.   
But I didn’t. 

The moment I had a firm hold on the cube, I felt a sharp pain in my fingers: the bird had attacked me. The pain, as you may guess, forced me to let the cube go and to quickly remove my hand from the hole.   
I quickly went near a streetlight to see how much damage the peregrine falcon had managed to deal; it took me less than five seconds to know that evolution had made a good job and had given him a beak capable of dealing a lot of damage to any kind of meat, including the meat on my right hand.

I knew my small camping plan was cancelled. I had no option but to go back to my apartment (the real one) and wash my wound before I could get any infections the falcon may have; I would, at the same time, make a call to the rehab center to inform them of the injured bird.


	3. Starting a new life

Once I entered my small apartment, I went in the bathroom and examined my wound in order to know how serious it was so I could decide if it was worthy of a hospital visit or if I could deal with it myself.   
The wound, in itself, was not very large (about twice the size of a large paper cut), although I could notice a few dark spots around the cut. It was probably dirt and/or some stuff that had remained in the falcon’s beak.   
Either way, the use of an anti-bacterial agent was direr than I thought before.  
I went toward my first aid kit and opened it, although the task was a little harder than usual since I had to use my left hand. Most of the products you would find in my kit were the “classics” one like Band-Aids, various disinfectants and bandages, but my kit also contained some “unusual” products. Well, actually, they weren’t unusual per se but they were the sorts of products you might not find in most of the homemade kit: a couple of batteries, two flashlights that could be recharged manually, enough dried food rations for four days and, even if I wasn’t allergic to anything, two Epipen auto injectors just in case I developed an allergy (or if I learned the hard way I currently had one).   
After pouring some anti-bacterial gel on my wound, I suddenly realized how stupid I had been this day.   
I had torn off some of my clothes, put some low quality alcohol on the torn off clothes, used the same alcohol as a “perfume” and wandered around town acting like a homeless while begging for money until I somehow think that sleeping in a construction site was a nice idea. And all that happened because of some hallucinations, an alien and some paranoia. 

Well, ok. The alien chase part was unusual, but it was no excuse for my actions. Instead of calling at work and inventing some excuses to explain how I missed the first day, I decided to wander off in town to find…. Well, something.   
I didn’t even know what I searched for. Nor did I know where to look.

After a quick look at the clock (midnight) I realized I hadn’t put a bandage on my wound, which was quickly resolved.   
In a (fortunate) moment of reason, I decided to abandon my investigation as I was currently doing it and think of a good excuse to say to my boss.  
After a good thirty seconds of thinking, I realized it would need a good night of a well-earned (?) sleep. But before I could sleep, I needed to take a shower. After all, I was probably covered of filth after my little trip in that construction site.

I took off what I used to call clothes and threw the whole thing on the floor, turned on the water and went in the shower. Only then I learned how filthy my small field trip made me.  
I was, in fact, so filthy the water was almost dark when it hit the bathtub, which not only made me realized how stupid I had acted but also happier to take this shower as it meant I had finally come back to reason.  
The hot water allowed me to relax. I had no idea how tense the whole thing had made me.   
Like everyone during a shower, I let my thoughts wander around without focusing on a specific subject, even if I tried not to think about the aliens and yesterday’s idea.  
I mostly thought about the falcon, wondering if the rehab staff had picked him up or if they would wait until tomorrow to take him. I also thought about what kind of excuse could cover two consecutive days of absence at work.  
Five minutes or so later, I decided it would be a problem I would solve tomorrow (which meant today since it was past midnight by now). I finished my shower and, another five minutes later, I was sleeping in my bed (which was a lot more comfortable than whatever “bed” I made a few hours ago).  
It took me a while to fall asleep. Mostly because I was too worried by what happened in the last two days and by how I reacted.  
I had being chased down by some kind of alien. I had being saved by a hawk. I had some weird hallucinations and “heard” the hawk talking to me. I had turned paranoiac and suspected a worldwide conspiracy led by the government. I had disguised myself as a homeless because I somehow thought it would be a good cover for my investigation and I would have slept in an abandoned construction site if it weren’t for being bitten by a falcon.  
I didn’t even care to call my boss and try to keep my job because of my absurd paranoia!  
What was next? Blaming the Illuminati? Starting to consider the possibility that the reptilians took over the world? Believing in chem-trails? Thinking we never went to the moon?

Where would it stop?  
Where would my craziness stop?  
Was I even crazy?  
Did I take a lot of hard drugs and the whole mess was just the result of it?  
What if had really happened?   
What if the hawk really talked to me?  
What if the government was involved?  
No…   
It was impossible. Hawks don’t talk. Chem-trails are not a thing. Reptilians are almost a joke. We really went to the moon. And there was no way I took any drugs of some kind.   
I was obviously crazy.   
How long before I do something really stupid?   
How long before my paranoia become so high that I would commit a murder? How long before I start to be dangerous to the others or myself? How long before I was taken to an asylum?  
Maybe I should go to an asylum by myself before I could do something I could not undo.  
It might be the safer decision: I would put everyone around me away from the danger I might become tomorrow.

It was almost funny. Not even a week ago I would have considered my life as being boring. I would have wished that anything special happened to me.  
And now that my wish was granted, all I wished for was to return to my normal life. You know? The life where aliens only chase you in video games or in movies?  
I had to return to that life. I had to stop investigating for a while and, when I would start again, not be such a paranoid. After all, if the men’s in black really wanted me, they would already be knocking at my door.  
I promised to myself I would wake-up early tomorrow.  
I promised I would call my boss and try to find an excuse to my absence.   
I also promised I would have my job back.  
I would return to a normal and comfortably boring life.  
The kind of life I desired above everything.  
And this time, I would not ruin it by making stupid decision without thinking about it.

It was 7 o’clock when I woke-up.  
As I promised myself, I called my boss and explained to him I had been attacked in the forest by some kind of predator I hadn’t identified. I explained to him I would be dead if not for some dive-bombing of a hawk.  
I then explained I was too shaken up by the events and, because of the lack of sleep, skipped my alarm clock.  
I told him I was too depressed and perturbed to call him when I noticed I had missed my first day of work (after all, I thought I had lost the job on day one).   
I explained I hadn’t called the next day because I was sure to be fired anyway and that calling would have been pointless.  
I tried to explain I only called today because I finally came to my sense and finally managed to go back to my normal “state”. When you think about it, it wasn’t really far from the truth.   
Which is probably why it worked.  
My boss told me I didn’t have to worry about that and offered me another chance; although he insisted on the fact I should have called on the first day.  
Of course, I assured him I wouldn’t be late anymore.   
Not even today since I had a lot more time than I needed to get ready and go to work.  
I quickly grabbed my clothes (not the one I had torn off, of course) and got ready to work. I didn’t care to make myself a quick breakfast: I would just buy something on my way there. Just before going outside, I decided to shave my head completely: being bald was the only way I could think of to remove my bad haircut I did myself yesterday.   
Or, at least, it was the only way I could do it without being late.

I inspected myself a last time, just to be sure I hadn’t forgotten something compromising, and went outside my apartment.  
As I walked toward the bus stop, I decided to take a little detour by the construction site, just to see if the falcon was still there. I walked to the construction site, which somehow look a bit scary since my recent paranoiac trip, and immediately went toward the small hole.   
Fortunately, the falcon had been taken cared of. Well, unless some predator had eaten him and decided to hide the body for some reasons, which seemed like an unlikely scenario.

The bus stop wasn’t far from the construction site.   
But it wasn’t very close either.  
My little detour had taken me farther from the bus stop than I thought at first.   
Assuming I actually thought about that in the first place.  
Great. My promise about not making stupid things without thinking was already broken. It took me less than a day to do so.  
It was like if I had lost the ability to think clearly since that gillette attack.  
But I had to regain that ability fast since there was no way I could get away with my absence without answering questions first. Questions I couldn’t answer unless I lied for all of them. And, if I wanted to look like I was saying the truth, I would have to plan ahead and think of a lot of details just in case I would need them to “prove” my “innocence”.   
And, I had a mere 20 minutes to do so.  
Twenty minutes to recreate a story based on real events and memorize it well enough to be able to tell it correctly even if I was under a lot of stress.  
What was that saying a lot of movies centered on a wish going wrong said? Be careful what you wish for?   
Welp, it seems like I had lost my ability to think clearly before that gillette came to say hi.

I wished I were the falcon. I really wished I were just like him. I wished I could transform in a falcon, spread my wings and fly away from all this mess.   
I would fly away from the gillettes. I would fly away from my stupid actions. I would fly away from the construction site. I would fly away from all my problems. With my wings, I would, quite literally, get over the huge mess I was in.  
But, unfortunately, wishing would solve nothing.  
It wouldn’t help me invent my real story in less than 20 minutes.  
And even if it could help, it would probably confirm that old saying I mentioned above because of how unlucky I seemed to be these days.

As I saw the bus approaching, I positioned myself near the road and waited for the bus to stop by. It took him, fortunately, very little time to do so. Plus, I was lucky enough to have a seat, which would, hopefully, help me create that story.

It turns out creating an event you lived is surprisingly easy. All you have to do is to use the real story and, instead of inventing the details like I had planned, change the real details to make the real story credible. In example, instead of a hawk attacking the gillette, it was a deer.   
No, I hadn’t made the deer attack the unidentified predator in my (fake) story. I had decided that the predator changed his mind and went for the deer. I had “guessed” the predator thought the deer had more meat and/or that it would easier to catch. Of course, my false-real story didn’t include a “let’s go sleep in a construction site” chapter. 

I know, it was a pretty lazy story to think of.   
But I had been chased by an alien only to be saved by a hawk and a hallucination before turning crazy and deliberately passing as a homeless. I had decided to sleep in a construction site and only changed my mind because a falcon had bitten me.   
When all that will have happened to you, you will receive the right to criticize my story.

And anyway, it turned out the story was good enough to convince my boss not to fire me. I even managed to get out of probation by insisting on how traumatic the event had been for me (all I had to do was to explain that adding the stress of a probation would be too much for me and, in the end, would turn out to be counter-productive).

But, I promised myself, removing the probation wouldn’t change anything. Probation or not, I would never be late again. I would never make any mistakes in my work. I would never do anything wrong.  
I would act like if I were on an eternal probation.   
The investigation I started yesterday was like a drug.  
I knew that if I ever started it again, I would never be able to stop until it ruined my whole life forever.  
Acting like I was on an eternal probation was the only way to keep me away from this drug.

It was the start of a new life.   
A life that started just a few hours ago, after my other life had ended two days ago with the Chase.  
And there was no way I would ruin this life: I knew I could not survive for a third one.

Just as I was giving myself this pep talk, I realized I would also need to relax if I didn’t want to take the investigation drug out of a desire to do something else than working, for once. I promised that, as well as doing all the things mentioned above, I would make at least one “field trip” of some sort each week, no exceptions.

And I would start with the Gardens: it was near the place he, the falcon, was.   
Maybe, if I was lucky enough, they would let me see him if I told them I was the caller.   
If they did, it would remove one thing to worry about: oddly enough, I was a little worried about him.   
I guess seeing him injured and giving him help (or at least, making sure someone would) had made me fond of the falcon, despite the good bite he had given me.


	4. Yet another bite

_I had broken my record. I was going *at least* at 100 m/s._   
_I don't have statistics, but I guess it was a pretty good speed for a newbie falcon during a dive. After all, I had barely accumulated ten hours of flight time in the last three days!_   
_100 m/s._   
_Even now, I couldn't believe how fast I was. I mean, I knew peregrines falcons were incredibly fast. I knew they were capable of reaching speed that allowed them to cover, in a mere second, the distance covered in nearly 10 seconds by the fastest Homo sapiens. I knew it could go more than twice faster than a Piper Cub._   
_I knew it was fast._   
_But I never felt it. I had never felt how fast the ground was approaching. I had never felt the excitation of seeing the ground approaching so fast you would think Earth was trying to hit you._   
_But now I did._   
_Unfortunately, a fast dive meant a short one._   
_My terrain altitude was already below 150 meters, which meant I had a second and a half to recover from my dive._   
_One second and a half to convert all my vertical speed into horizontal speed._   
_Which meant I had to flare and stop my insanely fast dive._

I woke up and took a look at the alarm clock.  
6:34 AM.  
It was sooner than I planned but, unfortunately, not soon enough to justify trying to sleep again for a bit.

What a strange dream.  
It felt, at the same time, real and false.  
It felt, to a certain extent, like being in a full motion flight simulator; just like those few I had the chance to try when my father was working as a flight teacher.  
When I was in those simulators, it was obvious I wasn't really flying: although the motion was extremely realistic and you really felt like the plane was accelerating, you could tell in mere seconds you were in a simulator.  
Just like the simulator, my dream felt extremely realistic: I had felt the wind on my body and the thrill of being in free fall during the first seconds of my dive. I had felt the excitement of flying.  
But, sadly, it wasn't real.

Before being completely awake, I lazily stood up and walked toward my small refrigerator to make myself a small breakfast.  
I had the choice between some eggs, some bacon and some pasta I cooked yesterday.  
I opted for the pasta. The eggs didn't attract me very much and the bacon was too precious to be wasted by overcooking them, which was bound to happen with the amount of tiredness I had.  
I started to think about my dream once again, probably because my brain was too tired to think about something else than whatever it had just created.

Even now, I still felt the pleasure of the dive. I still felt the satisfaction of breaking my non-existent record. I still enjoyed the feeling I had as the air rushed at my streamlined body.  
I couldn't help but smile at the irony of that dream.  
Remember the field trip to the Gardens I talked about? Remember how I told I would try to see the poor injured falcon?  
Well, guess what, today was the day.  
Today was the day I would go there, hopefully, meets him and I had dreamed about being a peregrine falcon. The only way it could be more ironic was if I had managed to crash, hurt myself and somehow crawl in a hole on a construction site.

I took the pasta out of the refrigerator, put them in the microwave and set it to 59 seconds. There were no particular reasons to that. I just wanted to use the "nine" for once. Somehow, using this rarely used number on microwaves made me smile.  
I guess the whole craziness episode had boosted my stress level to the point where using a number on the microwave was funny to me just because the number wasn't used very often.  
Hopefully, that episode of craziness ended last Tuesday.

While the pasta was reheated, I went toward the pile of clothes I had lazily dumped on my desk after washing them last Thursday (being too lazy to place them in the closet) and began to dress myself.  
I had just taken off my shirt when I noticed it.  
A lot of tattooed features were drawn on my chest; the way they were arranged made me look like some kind of a mix between a homos-sapiens and a bird.  
If I had noticed them just a day or two before I would have suspected a drunken tattoo: it would not have been surprising, back then, to wake-up and learn I had drunk too much vodka and made myself these tattoos in some small tattoo parlor.  
But, since then, I had made a promise I could not break. I  _knew_  I would never get drunk enough, at least not willingly. I couldn't know what these features were, but I could know they weren't drunken tattoos.  
Unlike the day where I had (re)discovered the Path, I didn't stay in shock for a long time and immediately ran to my bathroom to have a better look at them.  
Immediately after entering the bathroom, I turned on the lights and waited anxiously for the fluorescent lamps to reach a sufficient level of brightness and, as much as I hate to use an overly used cliché, the few seconds the lamp took to reach the required brightness felt like hours.  
False alarm.  
There was nothing on my chest.  
I guess the right moment to look if you have tattoos of features on yourself is not when you just dreamt about being a bird and you're so sleepy that putting a plate of pasta in the microwave is the most complex thing you can do.  
I should buy some coffee after the Garden. It might prevent me from having weird hallucinations next morning.

As I ate my plate of pasta, I planned every single details of my visit and my request to see the bird: I wanted to make sure I could see him.  
I wanted to look like I would get the idea of seeing him  _after_  visiting the Gardens: if they discovered I was only visiting to check the falcon, they would probably refuse.  
So, to achieve that, I planned my whole visit as to make me look like any random visitor while guaranteeing me to "accidentally" meet a veterinary on my way out. I planned what and when I would look at which animals, how long I would look at them and which questions I would ask to a staff who, by pure "luck", happened to be right next to me when the question would "suddenly" pop in my mind.

* * *

"If I may ask, what were you doing in an abandoned construction site in the middle of the night?"

My plan had worked without any problems and convincing one of the two veterinary working there was easier than I planned.

"I don't really want to talk about it. It's no big deal, but that night was probably the worse night I of my life as far as I remember."

We were in some sort of barn in which a numerous amount of cages and animals were present; the falcon was at the back in a small 3 by 3 by 3 feet cage and looked, at the same time, depressed and happy at the same time; although I was most probably just projecting my own emotions on him: as far as I know, it's hard to see how a bird feel like.

"So… Any way I could be of any help? Since I must be disturbing you, I think that's the least I could do.  
-Hmm…. Actually, yeah, can you bring that bag of rat over there for the falcon you discovered?  
\- Rats? I thought peregrine falcons fed on birds?  
-Oh yes, they do, but we don't have any bird to give him but any meat will do."

I grabbed the bag, which containing about ten rats, and walked toward what looked like to be the avian area of the barn.

"-Hey, if you want to feed it, feel free to do so; just be careful not to let it escape.  
-oookay… Thank you, I guess? How many rats must I give him?  
-Just one, he's not flying at all these days so we mustn't let it become too fat."

I approached the falcon I saved less than a week ago. As I opened the rat bag to fetch one of these rodents, he jerked his head toward me and looked at me. Even if I was, once again, projecting my own emotion on him, I could swear he looked curious. He looked like if he knew he already saw me before but couldn't exactly remember where, when and in which circumstances.

"So, I just open the door and toss the rat inside?  
-Basically, yes. Be careful not to open it too much: this falcon seems quite motivated and capable of escaping before being fully healed."

After opening the door, leaving just enough space to put the rat in the cage, I slowly approached my hand trying while trying not to look like a threat. Exactly like what I did last Monday, except, this time, I had a rat.  
And, exactly like Monday, he bit me, although the bite was significantly smaller than the first one. I couldn't help but smile at the irony: if I were here, it was because he had bitten me less than a week ago.

"Oh…uuh… I guess I should have asked sooner, but how bad are his injuries?"

Fortunately, no one except the falcon and I had noticed the bite. I knew I could deal with it myself and, frankly, I was becoming quite tired and I wanted to get back home and relax in my bed.

"He has a broken wing and some missing tail features, but apart that, nothing much. He may fly in a week or two at worse.  
-Cool!"  
There was a short awkward silence.

"Well, mm… thank you for allowing me to see the falcon. Somehow, it's quite relieving to know he's going to fly again.  
-Yeah, no problem."

* * *

Be part of something bigger!

Join the Sharing!

Ugh….  
It was the third time I received that kind of pamphlet. They were all about becoming part of something bigger, finding a family, a new community, doing something helpful for the other and other stuff like that. Basically, they were like any normal "community group" , except they were a  _lot_  more insistent in their recruitment method.  
Seriously, I was starting to think each member received a commission based on the number of recruit they made each week.

I took the pamphlet and, just like the others, threw it in my trashcan. If they thought harassing me with their promises could make me join them, they were wrong: the more pamphlets they sent me, the least I wanted to join them and the more I wanted to buy another mailbox on which I would write "ads and other promotional letters" for the sole purpose of hiding a shredder inside and get rid of that Sharing spam faster.  
Anyway.

That would be something to solve later. It was 19h00(7 PM), which meant most of the stores, would be closed and, more importantly, it was dinnertime.  
The problem of choosing what to eat was quickly resolved after I opened the fridge and noticed I had nothing I could use to make a (decent) meal; I would just order some chicken from the restaurant nearby.

After calling the restaurant to make the order, I quickly grew claustrophobic in my tiny apartment. There was only one exit! What if a fire broke out and blocked it? What if someone wanted to rob my house? The robber would block my one and only exit! What if I stayed too long in here? Would I die because of the amount of CO2 I would expel?  
I had to create another exit point!  
There!  
The window!  
I had to open it for the night! It would create a good exit point if I had to evacuate! It would create a perfect opening if I wanted to fly out of this tiny nest! Quick! The more I waited, the more I was taking risk!

Feeling the refreshing breeze on my face seemed like the most relaxing thing I ever experienced in the 18 years that constituted my life. It felt like I could, on a whim, spread my arms, takeoff in the blue sky and travel everywhere in town by hopping from a thermal to another at 1500 meters above the ground.  
Maybe I should try some paragliding next week. I guess it's the closest thing to flying I could have.


	5. Yet another hallucination?

_My terrain altitude was already below 150 meters, which meant I had a second and a half to recover from my dive._

_One second and a half to convert all my vertical speed into horizontal speed.  
_ _Which meant I had to flare and stop my insanely fast dive.  
_ _I knew I could have waited a little more, but I didn't want to take the risk to crash on the ground at 360 km/h. I wasn't a veterinary, but I was sure it would hurt.  
_ _So I pulled up and leveled my flight.  
_ _I still had a lot of speed. If I acted now, I might easily pull a good acrobatic maneuver.  
_ _Which one should I do? A roll? Nah… too easy. A looping? Meh… too classic. A barrel roll? Basically a looping and a roll combined. A Cuban eight? Yeah right. Like I could pull one.  
_ _What about a half Cuban eight? Could I make it?  
_ _Let's try one._

I woke up and took a look at the clock.  
8:14 AM.  
I was late. I should have woken up at 7:30 AM.  
Still, if I was fast enough, I may not be late for work.

I scrambled out of my bed and, just as I put my weight of the ground, fell miserably on the ground, missing my nightstand by a few centimeters.  
Although it wouldn't help, I looked behind me to see on what I tripped.

Huge talons.  
Huge Talons attached to huge bird legs.  
Huge bird legs attached to my body.  
Features covering most of the lower portion of my body.  
What the actual f-?  
It was like if the lower half of my body was a human-sized bird and the upper part of my body was a human.  
It was like if I were a human-bird; judging by what the features looked like, I would bet the "bird" portion was a peregrine falcon.  
The same specie that had bitten me two times in a week.  
Now I was definitively crazy.

Or was I?  
I could move my talons and my legs like if they were mine. I had no problems moving my talons even if they weren't placed like normal "toes". I could easily move my bird legs, just like if they were mine. I could touch my talons without feeling like I was touching a human's foot. If I hit something with my talons, I could hear the sound of a talon hitting the object.  
I tried to scratch the bed with my right talon and, of course, the scratches was exactly like they should be if I had talons.  
How likely it was to suffer from a visual hallucination at the same time of suffering from an auditory hallucination and tactile hallucination?

And those features on the bed!  
How likely it was to also imagine them?  
How likely it was to create such a complex and realistic hallucination?  
How likely it was to imagine so much details without the slightest contradiction?  
The auditory hallucination matched perfectly with the tactile and visual one.  
All of them were perfectly synchronized. There was no lag between the "sound" I made by hitting something and the feeling it made on my talons.  
There was no lag between the sound of scratching the bed and the visual confirmation of the scratches.  
Maybe it was real? Maybe I was turning in a bird? Maybe the features I had yesterday were real?  
No…  
It was impossible…  
One does not simply turn into a bird.  
But what if I was?  
What if, this time, one did simply turned into a bird?  
What if the gillette somehow made me turn into a bird?  
What would I do if it were the case?  
How could I live with the body of a bird?  
Would I be able to live a "normal" life?  
Would I be able to live just like a human, except with the body of a bird?  
Would I be able to have a job?  
No….  
That wasn't the most urgent. There was nothing I could do about these long-term problems for now.  
I had to do something about the short-terms problems  _now_.  
Ok…. First, could I stand up and walk?

I placed my hands on the bed and pushed myself to sit on the mattress. I then slowly and tried to stand on what used to be my feet, careful not to put too much weight too fast in case my new body wasn't solid enough to support my mass.  
Even if I could easily walk around, I had to walk slowly because my balance was harder to conserve.  
I had no choice but to call my boss and tell him I couldn't go to work for a while. I would probably get fired, but it was the only option: if I was turning crazy I could not work anymore and if I was turning into a bird I would have other problems to worry about. I reached the phone and, just as I was typing the number, noticed that my talons were starting to transform in feet, followed my legs a few seconds later.  
I had my real body back.  
I could walk normally again.  
But, still, I had to skip work and call my boss.  
Using my normal human legs, I went to the phone and called him.

"Hi. I know it will seem strange, but I won't be able to go to work; probably for a long time…. I… don't know how long.  
-What? How so?  
-Well, there's been a lot of stress in my life these last few days and I just can't manage to work with that. I mean, I feel like I'm already losing it to the stress.  
-You know I can't keep you if you always skip work like that? You barely arrived and you already tell me you won't come back for a while!  
-Yeah, I know. But I really can't do it. It's just… There's just too much stress for me. I  _really_  need some vacation or else I will end up in an asylum.  
-Ok… I understand, more or less. Unfortunately, I won't be able to keep you as a salaried, I hope you understand that, but as soon as you feel like you're ready to come back, call me and I will give you something to do.  
-Thank you. Thank you a lot.  
-Nah, no problems. You know, if you feel too stressed, there's a club called the Sharing. I joined it recently and I really think it could help you. Please, promise me you will, at least, take some time to look it up. I don't want you to do something stupid.  
-…. Yeah, ok…. I'll give it a look."

It was time to investigate. Again. I know I promised not to do so, but I didn't saw my feet become talons at the time. It was a matter of life and death, now. It was a matter of sanity and craziness.  
However, this time, I would  _really_ investigate. Before, my investigation was just a "let's look around" type of investigation: the one I was about to do would be a "let's take pictures of everything, take samples, topology measures and everything" type of investigation. It would be a real investigation, one that could really help me.

So, first step: buying some Ziploc bags and some cameras. I would use the bags to take samples and the cameras to take picture of when and where I took those samples.

Second step: take some pieces of paper, a pen (to keep notes of the emplacement of the samples or other interesting observation), a flashlight (I had no idea of how long I would stay there or if I would end up in a dark place) and a small garden shovel just in case I needed to dig something.

Third step: going there (duh)

There were two main locations to investigate: the forest where the Chase took place and the construction site where I had been bitten by the bird.  
I decided to start with the construction site. Not that it was, investigation looking, more interesting but because it was closer than the forest; I just felt too lazy to go to the forest. And, in a way, it felt safer to be close to my apartment after what happened. I didn't want to walk a long way if my feet were to transform in talons again.  
Especially if they never changed back.

* * *

It was the second time I was here since the Bite.  
It was the first time I was here since I promised not to be here.  
I was about to do what I promised not to do by fear it would turn me crazy.  
I was about to restart the investigation.  
I had bought 12 disposable cameras, two flashlight (for redundancy), two sets of batteries (again for redundancy) and 100 small plastic bags (for samples).  
Since it seemed like the obvious point to start, I began with the hole in which the falcon was when he had bitten me.

I crouched in front of the hole, looking for a good angle to take a picture, and noticed the cube was still there, blocking the view for a eventual picture showing the whole hole.  
Just as I grabbed the cube, planning to put it in a corner of the site so it wouldn't block the view, I felt an intense burning sensation in my hand. It felt like putting my hand in boiling water.  
Basically, it hurt. It hurt a lot.  
I instantly threw the cube away and scanned my hand for any sign of burns; I was lucky enough not to see any. At least, I was now able to make decent picture of the hole (I took three of them) and take a few sample of the earth inside it (three samples, just in case I lost/destroyed a few).  
I then turned back toward my "bed". The "bed" I had made after the Chase, when I had lost it and disguised as a homeless. The bed I almost slept in, if it weren't for a falcon hiding in the hole I just photographed.  
Maybe it was of some importance? Maybe the "bed" had some special magic/voodoo/alien/spirit power? Maybe the falcon knew I was able to sleep in it and wanted to protect me from the power?  
Worth some picture and samples. Of course, my hypothesis was likely erroneous, but it was still worth a few pictures.

I almost stayed the entire day in the construction site and I finished half of my camera and taken 48 samples of the ground.  
I couldn't wait to see what information I could make out of all of these samples. Especially if I compared them with the sample I would take in the forest after dumping the used cameras and samples in my apartment. Hopefully, I could make a correlation between the two sites. Hopefully, I would be able to confirm the aliens that chased me had something to do with whatever was happening to me.  
It wouldn't bring me a lot of information but, at least, I would know the aliens were involved.

I had six cameras and 60 samples left. Since the Chase had been long (or rather, it felt long), I would need to cover a large area in the woods with a significantly cumbersome cargo to keep. If I tried to do it on foot, even with a trekking backpack, I would probably miss something important for my investigation.  
I needed a mountain bike.

And a sandwich. I took samples and pictures for quite a while now and I was starting to feel hungry.

* * *

There it was!  
The hiding place!  
The place I hid in after the "telepathic" hawk told me to go there!  
The place I almost slept in!  
I could still see the moss I used to make it more comfortable to sit.  
It was a strange sensation to see it again. It was like thinking of a weird nightmare you had and realizing how stupid it was.  
It was funny and disturbing.  
The place was attracting and repulsive.  
It looked like a haven and a trap.  
But, no matter these contradictions or whether or not I wanted to go there, I had to. There was, for sure, a lot of useful information I could squeeze out of this place. And, anyway, it didn't look so bad now.  
It almost looked like a nice place to use as a camping site.

I started to feel tired after an hour or two of investigating. Realizing quite fast that this tiredness was counterproductive, I decided to take a quick rest in my old hiding place.  
I walked the short distance between the haven and me, making sure not to lose any of the sample I had (34 so far) and made myself some place to lie down.  
It was so relaxing. I would have preferred a nice tree to be safe from any predators, but this was better than nothing.  
I never felt so relaxed in my whole life. I was so relaxed I was feeling sleepy.  
I couldn't sleep here. Not now! I wouldn't wake up until the next morning!  
But on the other hand… It was so tempting. Maybe if I just closed my eyes a little? Not for a long time.  
Just a few minutes. Just to have an even more relaxing experience. Just to have enough energy to continue my investigation.  
Not long…  
Just 5 minutes.  
Maybe 10?  
Or more? 20 minutes wasn't so long.  
Let's round that to a 30. I definitely needed a small break.

I closed my eyes.

I fell asleep.


	6. Ending the new life

_Which one should I do? A roll? Nah… too easy. A looping? Meh… too classic. A barrel roll? Basically a looping and a roll combined. A Cuban eight? Yeah right. Like I could pull one.  
What about a half Cuban eight? Could I make it?  
_ _Let's try one.  
_ _I pictured the maneuver in my head. I would first do three quarter of a loop. Then, I would make half a roll in order to have a bank angle of 0 and finally, I would level my flight. I was ready to go.  
_ _I started the roll, careful not to make it too tight or too loose.  
_ _I almost made half of it before realizing it was too wide and I didn't have enough speed to make the maneuver: I was already feeling like I was about to stall.  
_ _I had to abort this. I couldn't even do a Himmelman instead of this half cuban eight_

I woke up and took a look at the clock  
No clock  
Great...  
Just like I predicted yesterday, I slept the whole night in this wood.  
What time was it anyway?  
Judging by how high the sun was, it had to be around 10 o'clock or so.  
I took a look at my watch.  
But I had no watches. Not even an arm.

Instead of my arm, I had a wing that should be on a bird.  
A wing covered in feathers, similar to a peregrine falcon's wing.  
Panicked, I looked at the rest of my body. Nearly all of it was covered in feathers, my arms and hands were wings, my legs and foots were just like yesterday and I was a lot shorter than I should be.  
The only "human" portion I still had was my head, the rest of my body was either covered by features or actually a bird-like body.  
At least, there were enough features for me to know they corresponded to the feathers of a peregrine falcon.  
Would they turn back? Yesterday, everything changed back in less than two minutes, would it be the same case today?  
Was it permanent?  
Would I have to live the rest of my life as an unnatural mix between a bird and a human?  
I was too different from a human to live as one and unable to live as a bird since I couldn't fly.  
I would be unable to live as a human and unable to live as a bird.

I had to finish the investigation! I had to know everything before it was too late! I had probably two or three days at best before my whole body would be a bird!  
Although it was quite difficult to do, since I had no arms to help myself, I quickly stood up, determined to continue the investigation in an emergency-power mode. I didn't cared how tired I would be: I wouldn't be back home until all my sample bags would be filled and all my cameras would be used.  
That is, if I could open the bags.  
I needed opposable thumbs to do that. I needed opposable thumbs to do even the simplest task like picking up a bag and opening it and, unfortunately, wings don't come with opposable thumbs.  
So, there was I.  
A helpless creature, half-bird half-human, unable to do the simplest task of both species: I couldn't use opposable thumbs and I couldn't fly.  
It was like mixing two concepts and ending up with something featuring only the disadvantage of those two concepts. I was something that shouldn't exist.  
The worse thing was that it was likely to be like that forever, or at least until I died: it was nearly ten minutes since I woke up and no changes could be spotted.

I then heard the sound of bones cracking. My bones.  
I look down at my "body" and gladly noticed I was getting taller, less feathery and more human.  
The wings started to melt into an arm and a hand; at least, even if it stopped now, I would still have my precious opposable thumbs.  
I then realized I could take pictures of my birdy body. The changes was quite slow compared to yesterday and, assuming the speed didn't changed significantly, I had at least a minute left.  
I ran to my backpack and took the first camera my hand happened to touch. I quickly rolled a new shot, pointed the camera toward me and took a picture.  
I rolled in a new shot again and took another picture from a slightly different angle. I then took another picture. I took pictures until no more shots were left in the camera. I didn't even bothered of stopping to have a nice frame. I didn't cared if the camera was still moving when I was taking a picture. I wanted to have pictures of my body and, since I couldn't how much time I had, I opted for the quantity instead of the quality.  
As I predicted, one minute later I was fully human again.  
But, unfortunately, it didn't mean I could relax. It was quite the opposite. I had to investigate as fast as I could, just in case I wouldn't change back next time.

After carefully placing the now used camera in my backpack, I took a new one and used all of its pictures for the hiding place. I wanted to have every single details of it on film. I wanted the final product to be so detailed I could build a perfect scale-model of it. I wanted to be able to return here without returning here: I had to know every single details of this.  
Same thing applied to the ground. I wanted to have enough knowledge of the local soil to be able to recreate the terrain without being here: 40 bags were used with that specific goal in mind.

I then walked toward the Path. I could still see a clear trail of fallen trees and crushed bushes where the Chase took place.  
I could still see, sometime, the trace I left after I falling, back when all my problems had begun.  
Ugh…  
Why did I have to be here? Why did I have to take a walk in the forest? Why did I have to be chased down by an alien?  
Why did I have to have my life ruined apart like an old castle during a siege?  
Why did it have to happen to  _me?_  
I just wanted to take a walk! I didn't ask to be chased! I didn't ask to be turned into a bird! I didn't ask to be forced to take some pictures and bent on my knees to shove some dirt in little plastic bags while I was so hungry I could, without hesitation, kill a bird and eat him!  
But I had to continue. Pitying myself on my ruined life wouldn't be of any help. It would only make things worse. It would only lead me to make something stupid, just like when I disguised myself, and end up in some even worse trouble than now.  
All that mess because of a stupid walk.

* * *

It took the entire day to finish everything.  
My whole body was in pain. My eyes were sore; my hands were colds and covered in dirt and my back was cursing at me for being taking samples for the whole day. I felt miserable and happy at the same time. At the price of my well-being, I had amassed enough samples to take all the informations I needed to discover the how and why of all that mess.  
If I weren't so miserably happy, I would have considered this day as a day of celebration. But I was so tired, the only thing I wished for was to take a good hot shower and get some sleep while looking at the beautiful sky; there were no clouds at all and it was during a new moon.  
Basically, nothing covered the stars and no moon outshined them. If it wasn't for my general condition, I would grab a chair and pass a few hours doing nothing apart looking at the stars and think of everything and nothing at the same time.  
Talk about being unlucky! The perfect night for star-gazing and I couldn't enjoy it because I spent the entire day taking picture of dirt and stuffing plastic bags with some branches, bark and soil.

I carefully placed my recently used cameras and sample bags inside my trekking backpack: last thing I wanted was to waste all my efforts because I destroyed some of them.  
I took my backpack and realized, to my dismay, that it was a lot heavier than it was when I began my investigation, which, of course, made the pain even worse. As if I needed that pain when I had to walk for at least half an hour just to get out of this forest.  
I looked around me a last time, unable to understand if I was feeling nostalgic, happy or if I felt nothing, and realized how dark the forest was.  
As I said, there was no moon to outshine the stars, but that also meant there was no moon to help me see anything beyond a few tens of meters ahead of me: the thirty minute walk just became an one hour walk trough the forest.  
And my apartment wasn't even near the forest. I still had to take a bus, which would only get me 15 minutes away from my destination.  
It's a beautiful day!

Anyway, I was better to start walking now if I wanted a chance to sleep more than five minutes once I would have made it back home.  
I really should have rented the bike I looked at before starting this. But no, of course, I had to find it too expensive to rent! I had to think I would finish this in a day! I had to think everything would work well!  
I had to forget nothing since the beginning of the week was even close to go well.  
Goddamit. Why did I have to forget the law of Murphy just when it applied? Why couldn't I remember it  _before_  something bad happened instead of five minutes later while I was complaining about it?  
Why couldn't I learn from the lessons I should have learned since the Chase?

Did the gillette really had the power to reduce my cognitive capacity?  
Unless I was really turning into a bird and I was losing my intelligence. I couldn't tell if I had to find this last thought depressing. On one hand, I might be losing my sentience but on the other hand, if I was, I wouldn't be aware of it.  
Would it be a cause of suffering for me? Would I, as a bird, be aware I used to be a human? Would I be aware of my past? Would I be aware of my ruined life?  
Would I be aware of anything?  
Would I be aware of being something?  
Was I really crazy?

I really hoped I could science the hell out of the dirt and the pictures I took. I mean, I had more samples than anyone could dream of and, more importantly, I had picture of me as a human-bird!  
I just had to develop them and, finally, I would know if I was crazy or not! I just had to analyze the sample and I would know what was caused all my recent troubles! I would finally know if there was a link between the bite and the transformation! I would finally know if the bite was the cause or the effect of the bite! Soon, I would know everything. I would finally know how to stop these transformations.  
I would finally be able to have my life back.

Unless…

Great… I had no idea where I could send the samples to have them analyzed. And, even if I could, what analysis would I ask for? I doubt I could just show up in a lab, say "hi guys! Analyze this!" and throw the bags at them.

And what about the pictures?  
As soon as they would be developed, someone would know what was happening! The government would know about this and, given the potentially high strategic value of this, I would get kidnapped and sent to a lab to be studied!

* * *

I was on the roof of my apartment's building, sitting on a plastic chair to rest a little.  
I knew I should have been sleeping. I knew I was too tired to be awake at this time. I knew I would regret this the next morning.  
But I didn't cared.  
The sky, covered in star, was just too beautiful. No clouds to hide the shiny dots of light. No moon to outshine them. Just the big, dark sky covered by some little shiny white spots.  
Lucky birds. Surely, it was wonderful to fly up there, hearing nothing but the air around you.  
Suddenly, I felt a lot more tired than I was a few seconds ago. Maybe I should sleep here? After all, it wasn't a cold night and I couldn't eliminate the possibility of falling asleep while I would be walking down the stairs.

Yeah, it was probably safer to sleep on the roof.

I closed my eyes.

I fell asleep.


	7. Starting a newer life

_Which one should I do? A roll? Nah… too easy. A looping? Meh… too classic. A barrel roll? Basically a looping and a roll combined. A Cuban eight? Yeah right. Like I could pull one._  
What about a half Cuban eight? Could I make it?  
_Let's try one._  
_I pictured the maneuver in my head. I would first do three-quarters of a loop. Then, I would make half a roll in order to have a bank angle of 0 and finally, I would level my flight._  
_I was ready to go._  
_I started the loop, careful not to make it too tight or too loose._  
_I started slowly, well as "slow" a peregrine falcon was._  
_Before I knew it, I was already inverted, meaning I could have pulled a Himmelman if I needed to do so._  
_When my pitch reached -45 degrees, I quickly made half a roll to have a bank angle of 0._  
_I leveled my flight and looked at the surroundings to have an idea of my altitude._  
_Although I was quite lower than I was before, I could call this maneuver a success.  
_ _The first of many._

I woke up.  
I didn't look at the clock.  
I didn't open my eyes. I didn't want to.  
I already knew it was the day and I, again, managed to sleep outside for the whole night.

I was afraid. I was afraid of what I would see.  
I was afraid to see how much of my humanity I had lost during the night. I was afraid to see how close of a bird I was and how far from a human I was.  
I didn't want to lose my memory of my human body by having it replaced by the memory of a peregrine falcon body.  
But, not looking would lead me nowhere. I couldn't do anything about it, for now, and ignoring the problem would only make things worse.  
As soon as I opened my eyes, I looked at my body.  
My whole body was covered in feathers.  
My legs were the legs of a bird.  
Talons replaced my feet.  
Wings replaced both my arms and my hands.  
A hard beak replaced my soft lips.  
An amazing vision replaced my weak human vision.  
I was a bird. I was a complete bird. There was no more "human" left on my body.  
I was no longer a human. I was a bird, now.  
Hopefully, it wouldn't be permanent.  
Hopefully, I would turn back, just like the other times.

How long would it take, anyway? Yesterday, it took about 10 minutes. The day before, it was… two minutes, maybe? The day before that, it only took 30 seconds or so.  
Each day, it took between 4.5 and 5 time longer than the previous day. In theory, I just needed to wait 45 to 50 minutes before getting rid of this body. Hopefully.

I wanted to fly. Not only it would be an amazing experience, but it would also make me safe.  
On this roof, it would be extremely easy for any predator to sneak behind me and catch me by surprise; with the body I had, I wouldn't have any chances. However, if I changed back to my real self while I was flying, I couldn't be sure to land in time.  
On the other hand, my recent metamorphosis seemed like a slow progression toward a falcon's body; maybe I was fated to live as a bird for the rest of my life?

I didn't know what to do.  
By flying, I was safe from the ground but vulnerable to the changes. By staying where I was, I was safe from the changes but vulnerable to predators. Which one of these dangers was more dangerous?  
The flying, I guess. Even if I was on the "ground", I was on the top of an apartment building. The only predators that could get me here would be some cats who would have managed to make they way up here and other birds; as long as I wouldn't stay too much in the open, I wouldn't get eaten.  
I hopped off the chair I had slept in and looked around for anything that could be used as a shelter against aerial threats such as a tall wall or, even better, a hole I could hide in.

Unfortunately, there were no holes.  
Fortunately, there was a wall alongside the main roof entrance that I could reach without flying at all.  
However, it didn't mean it was easily reachable. I had the body of a creature meant to use flying as its primary method of transportation. I may reach the wall without any problems but it would take a long time to do so since I had to walk. Not that I cared about it: I still had one hour to wait (or two, if I wanted to be safe) until I could consider it was safe to fly.  
I didn't know what to hope for. If I changed back, it meant I could still live as a human but it would also mean I could not fly as a bird and that all my metamorphosis problems would still be present.  
If I wouldn't change back and stayed as a bird, I would be able to fly by my own wings but it would also mean… well… that I wouldn't be human again.  
I walked as fast as I could in this body and lay down next to the wall. All I could now was to wait and hope for something to happen.  
I was about to know if I had to give up my humanity or if I could keep it.

I waited three hours before I decided it was safe enough to do some flying. Even if I could just have waited one hour, I decided to wait three instead. I wasn't really sure why I did that.  
Perhaps I wanted to be sure it was safe or perhaps I was just afraid of losing my humanity.  
Perhaps a bit of both.  
I stood up, spread my wings and enjoyed the moment. I was about to realize a dream I always had: flying. I looked at my keys, still under my chair for some reasons, and decided to leave them there: what were the odds of someone stealing it when it was on the roof and no-one knew it was there?  
I took off the ground, and headed toward a nearby cumulus so I could (hopefully) catch a nice thermal: why would I waste my energy to go higher when a thermal could do the same thing?  
As I entered the thermal, I started to fly in a small circle so I could stay in the rising air current slowly bringing me higher and higher.  
I couldn't believe it. I was flying! I was flying by myself!  
I could go everywhere (or nearly) I wanted. There was no obstacle at the altitude I was. Nothing could block me or force me to do a detour. I could decide to go somewhere and fly straight there without even bothering to look at a road map.  
I was free.  
I didn't care, at the moment, whether I was a human or not. I was flying and that's what was important. The rest were merely details.  
Wait…

How was I flying?  
I didn't even think about flapping my wings to take off. It just felt natural. It was like if I decided, as a human, to go grab something in the fridge. I wouldn't "think" of walking. It would just be natural.  
Something I wouldn't even have to think about.  
Flying, for me, was just like walking for a human. It was natural.  
I didn't need to think "ok, now flap your wings with this exact movement" or "ok, you need to turn, raise your starboard wing a little" or anything else like that.  
I would just do it without having to think about it.

The same thing was happening with the predator instincts. Each time I noticed a bird, I could quickly estimate if I had a chance against him. I could quickly calculate a dive solution allowing me to catch and eat him. I could quickly spot potential thermals even if I had no knowledge in that field.  
I didn't even have to think about any of those. I just "felt" it.  
The weirdest thing was that I was feeling like the instincts and my mind were two different entities connected to make another mind; just like if my brain suddenly became multi-threaded (dual-core).  
And yet, at the same time, it felt like those instincts were mine. It felt like those instincts were part of me without being part of me.  
It felt like the instincts were currently being merged in my human mind.

* * *

Most of the day was spent flying aimlessly.  
I just enjoyed flying for the sake of flying, hopping from thermals to thermals while seeing every detail of the ground thank to my falcon's eyesight.  
I didn't care about the future. Not yet, anyway.  
I just flew around without thinking of anything in particular.  
Somehow, I found flying to be relaxing. It was like if I could finally step back and get over all my problems. It felt like I had nothing to worry about.  
I was finally safe.

But, still, I knew I would have to do something about this.  
I couldn't live the rest of my life as a bird, after all.  
I may have the body of a bird, but I was still a human.  
I was still a social animal. I still had to talk with someone else. I still had to live with other humans. I still had to do human things.  
Peregrines falcons, however, were not socials animals. They couldn't even talk between themselves. And, with this body, I certainly couldn't have a conversation with another human: I would be forced to pass nearly two decades without real interactions with my real specie. Unless I managed to find a way to turn back, or just communicate, I would have to deal with this gigantic psychological trauma by myself without any help.  
I wouldn't be able to have any social support.  
I would turn crazy before I could even realize it.

I had to continue my investigation, even if all the pictures and samples I took before were useless now.  
It would be quite hard though. All I had on my side was my human mind and a body that allowed me to cover great distances in a short time compared to my former body.  
At least, my eyesight was terrific. I would, during my future investigation, be able to spot everything on the ground and have an aerial view of the whole thing area I wanted to investigate.  
It may not be enough to understand the complete picture, but I could, at least, have more hints about what happened. After all, an aerial observation would be the perfect way to see the Path as a whole!  
And, for the construction site, it would allow me to see the situation from the point of view of the very specie that may have caused the whole body swap thing.  
But that would be for later.  
Right now, I just wanted to enjoy the flight.  
I just wanted to take a step behind and think about something else.  
I just wanted to relax a little.

I flew around during most of the day.  
Even if I still wanted to fly, I knew I had to go back to my apartment before the sun would get down.  
Even if I had the bird's flying instincts, it would be my first landing. I did not want to perform it during IFR conditions.  
I turned toward my home, and only then I realized I had forgotten something: the doors.  
The doors were made, obviously, so a human could open them, not a bird.  
If I wanted to open them, I would need to grab my key and find a way to fit it in the keyhole. Then, I would need to turn the key, which would be hard without hands, and try to turn the doorknob while pushing on the door.  
Yay.

It took about half an hour to return home.  
Plenty of time to realize there was no way I could open the door easily, assuming there was a way to do it.  
Plenty of time to realize grabbing the key would be hard with my talons: it was flat, thin and small; I had to hold it using my "nails".  
After landing on the roof, I grabbed the key and reached the apartment building's front door.  
I then realized I could not make it trough the first door. The door opened toward the outside, which meant I would have to pull the door if I wanted to open it (duh).  
But, since the handle made to pull it was too high for me to reach it from the ground, I would need to hold it and "fly" backward hard enough to open the door.  
And because of physics, it would be impossible: the door and I would be part of the same system and, since the door would "block" any air current I could create with my wings, there was no way I could pull the door.  
I guess it meant I had to sleep on the roof, just like a real bird.  
At least, I already knew a safe-ish place to do so.

I grabbed my key; somehow, I didn't want to lose it even if I wouldn't use it ever again.  
I took off the ground and reached the spot I had used this morning when I was too scared to fly.  
I lay down.

I closed my eyes.

I fell asleep.


	8. Can I be shown the world?

I didn't even bothered to look at myself when I woke up. I already knew I hadn't changed back. I knew I still had my bird body.  
And, this time, I knew I didn't need to wait a few hours before flying. I knew I wouldn't change back mid-flight without warning.  
I knew it was permanent  
I knew I wouldn't have my human body again. I knew I wouldn't be able to live as a human anymore and that I had to learn how a real falcon lived.  
Unfortunately, I knew nothing about that. I knew almost nothing about the avian world. All the "useful" knowledge I had was what I "learned" yesterday by listening to the falcon's instincts.  
I knew how to fly and I could think of a dive trajectory to chase a bird but, after that, I was on my own. I had no idea how I was supposed to kill the bird, what to do if I missed or what to do if he survived the impact.  
I wasn't even sure how I was supposed to eat!  
Do I have to remove the feathers of my prey? Do I have to keep them? Do I have to eat them to get whatever nutriments they could have?  
Do I have to cut the bird into tiny bits before eating or can I eat him directly without "cutting"?  
And what about the nest? How did I build one? Did I even need to build one or I could use a building for that?  
What was a good place to build/use a nest? And, if I found a good place, how could I be sure it wasn't on another falcon's territory?  
I was basically thrown into a world I knew nothing about and my life depended on my ability learn how to live in this new world.

Despite the large number of problems I had to solve, I knew it was impossible to solve all of them in one day. I had to solve them one by one, depending on how urgent they were.  
Just like any survival scenario, the most important thing was food and water. Water wouldn't be a problem for now since I could easily find some fountains to drink in.  
Food, however, was more problematic. I didn't know how to hunt and I was already starting to be hungry.  
Worst of all, the falcon inside me was screaming for getting some altitude and start hunting.  
But I had to fight it; being overwhelmed by these instincts would be too dangerous.  
All I knew about the hunting technique of the peregrines was they dived at high speed on the wings of their preys and, if the prey was still alive after it hit the ground, killed the prey themselves.  
This was the theory. I didn't know how I could do it in practice. And, frankly, I was afraid.

Not that diving seemed scary, it was quite the opposite actually, but I was scared of everything that could go wrong during the hunt. I could misestimate my altitude and pull up too late to avoid the ground. I could hit an obstacle I didn't see before diving. I could hunt, by mistake, on another falcon's territory and get attacked by the owner.  
If I went trough any of these scenarios, I would not live to tell the tale.  
But, if I didn't try, I would die of starvation.  
I basically had the choice between a sure death and a possible death.  
So I choose the possible death and started hunting.

The bacon!  
I had some bacon in my refrigerator and, unless someone stole it, I could try to eat it instead of hunting!  
It wouldn't be a solution for the rest of my life but it would leave me enough time to practice my dives and find my own territory!  
I just had to find a way to enter in my apartment without using the doors.  
No matter how hungry I was, physics would still prevent me from opening the door. I had to pass trough the only "exit" left: the window.  
And, since it was closed, it meant I had to break in my own house.  
I already had a plan in mind; all I needed was some hardware.  
Luckily, I would probably find everything I needed in the construction site.  
I turned toward the site and flew as fast as I could. Not because I was hungry, but because I wanted to see how fast I could go.

Less than five minutes later, I was circling above my house with a small rock in my talons thinking of the best way to drop it on my window.

I was quite relieved to be back: flying with my talons extended added a lot more drag than one could expect.

When I was ready to break into my own apartment, I put some distance between the building and me. I pictured my next moves. I imagined the sight of the window rushing at me. I pictured the snapback I would feel when I would let the rock go. I picture the sudden upward acceleration and the sound of broken glass.  
I pictured the fast ascent I would do in order to avoid any obstacles after my dive.  
I was ready.  
I turned toward my house.  
I looked at the window.  
I dove.  
I went straight for the window, with my rock still in my talons.  
I saw the window approaching at an extreme speed.  
I felt like a SBD-3 diving toward the armored vehicles, ready to let go of its bomb.  
Steady…..  
Steady….  
Steady…  
Steady..  
 _BOMB AWAY!  
_ I pulled up as fast as I could and waited for the rock to hit its target.

Direct hit! Target destroyed!  
The rock went right trough the window, leaving a nice and clear hole I could easily use to enter my apartment.  
I would have smiled if I still had my soft mouth.  
I had just dropped a rock in my own window to enter in my own apartment because I couldn't open a door.  
I never imagined I would ever do something like that in my life.

I entered my house and landed above the refrigerator, wondering how I could open it with this body.  
The refrigerator was made so a human could open it. Unfortunately, not only did I lack opposable thumbs to hold the handle but I also lacked the strength.  
Welp…  
I least I could try.  
Strangely, I found the situation quite funny. I could picture how the situation would look like for a stranger watching me.  
He would see a bird in an apartment trying to push on a refrigerator's door while he used his talons to open the lid.  
I would have laughed if my anatomy allowed it.  
After a few minutes of pushing and mental cursing, I finally managed to open the door. I dove inside the refrigerator and, before the door could close and trap me inside, opened some drawers; I didn't want to do the whole "pushing on the door" thing from inside.  
I grabbed the bacon bag, and went on my table. Holding the bag with my talons, I tried, successfully, to rip-open the bag with my beak.  
The cut was not straight or continuous at all but, at least, I could reach the bacon.  
All I had to do now was to eat the delicious meat.

Once I finished eating, I realized I couldn't live like this forever. Even if there were quite a lot of bacon left in the bag, sooner or later I would finish it. If I were a human, the solution would be to go at the supermarket and buy some more or to eat something else than bacon.  
But, as a falcon, I couldn't buy any more bacon.  
Not only I couldn't get in the supermarket, but I wouldn't be able to pay it since there was no way I could fly with a wallet and a bacon bag at the same time.  
I also realized I couldn't stay here for the rest of my life. Sooner or later, someone would notice my disappearance or notice the broken window. In both scenarios, the apartment would no longer be a place I could enter, let alone live in.  
Sooner or later, most likely sooner, I would have to give up my human style of life for a falcon style of life.  
I had to know more about their lifestyle while I still could.

I flew to my computer, fortunately it was already open, and decided to make some basic researches on peregrines falcons.  
I reached the mouse and tried to move the cursor. Although the task was easy, it required a lot of time to do so.  
Since I had no hands to move the mouse, I had to use my head to do it.  
The problem? I couldn't use my head like that and watch the screen at the same time; I had to move the mouse a little, look where the cursor was and do the same thing again and again.

Once I finally opened my Internet browser, I had to type what I want to search.  
Just like the mouse, it was easy but tedious: although I didn't need to see the screen as much as I needed for the mouse, I could only use my beak to type.  
I wished I could have searched all the information I could, but it would take way too much time with my body.  
All I could learn in a reasonable amount of time was the basic: how to hunt, how to build a nest, where to build the nest, what to eat and which predators I had; I would learn the rest later.

I knew it was time to leave. Even if I hated to think about it, it was likely to be one of the last times I would be here.  
Of course, I would come back here over the next days to eat the bacon, but it wouldn't be very long until the bacon ran out.  
After that, I would need to hunt.  
To hunt, I would need my own territory.  
To have my territory, I would need a place to sleep.  
Basically, I would need to be a real falcon.  
I would probably miss my human life.

I flew out of the building and started to look around in town to see if I could find somewhere to live.  
I wanted the nest to be high so I wouldn't need to takeoff from zero altitude each time I started to hunt.  
I also wanted the nest to have a perch of some sort so I could keep watch for any other falcon or predators.  
My inner falcon wished what I would call home to be slightly slopped so I could prevent the eggs from rolling elsewhere.  
The human I was wanted to have a view on my apartment.  
Although it wasn't necessary, I still wished to have a view to what I used to call "home". It was a pure sentimental desire.

* * *

A nest box!  
Right over there, on my 2 o'clock!  
That was the perfect place!  
Those boxes were made for the sole purpose of being a good "nest"!  
I had found a very good place to live and, moreover, it was human-made. Somehow, it brought some kind of comfort to know I would still live inside something "human".  
It would be some sort of "connection" to the human world.  
Hopefully, it was unoccupied.

I turned to my left and, making sure I never went too close, circled the box.  
I couldn't see any movements. It was a good sign.  
I lowered my altitude and went a little closer.  
No movements. There was hope.  
I lowered my altitude even more so I could be at the same level of the box and went even closer. If someone lived in there, he would definitively see me.  
No movements.  
But, this time, it wasn't a good sign.  
I could see three eggs.  
Which meant, not only someone lived there, but also that there was an angry mother around ready to kill me if I looked like I was any kind of threat.  
I turned away and flew as fast as I could.  
I wanted to be as far as I could from the nest.  
No movements.  
Not even a bird to be seen.  
Weird.  
I had been extremely close, from a falcon perspective, to the three eggs and yet, no one attacked me.

The reality hit me.  
Their parents were dead or captured.  
Otherwise, I would have been attacked or, at least, I would have seen a bird around the nest.  
Sadly, the nest wasn't really far from the construction site where I had found the falcon; obviously, the falcon I saved a week ago was the father of those eggs.  
And, for some reasons, the mother was unable to take care of them. She was either dead or captured.  
The three eggs were the sole occupants of the nest.  
Three helpless eggs with three poor falcons bound to die if no one took care of them.  
I had to help them.  
I turned around and headed straight for the nest.

For now, the most important thing to do was to brood the eggs; I had no way to know how long they had been alone or if they were still alive.  
As I "sat" on them, part of me wondered if it was a strange thing to do. I was a human, not a bird! Why would I brood some eggs and go trough the hardship of raising three little birds?  
On the other hand, what was wrong with that?  
A lot of naturalists took care of birds when their parents died and no one though it was a strange thing to do.  
And, even if it were a strange thing to do, the rest of my life would be like that. I may not have babies or a mate but taking care of the eggs while their father was being healed could help me get used to my new life.  
it also felt like the last "human" thing I could do in this life.


	9. It's a whole new world

As I woke up next to the eggs, I began to realize I had to plan ahead if I wanted to adapt.  
Even if the food problem was solved (kinda) and that the shelter would be easy to find, I still needed to solve an important problem: mental health.  
In my current form, I couldn't talk to anyone and, since the human specie needs to interact with other persons, this was bound to cause problems at some point. Moreover, this lack of contact would be aggravated by what I was going trough right now; this transformation thing was not something I could cope by myself. I needed help.  
Since talking was not an option, the easiest way to start was probably to use a simple Morse code message in front of someone. With some luck, I could manage to convince someone to try to "talk" to me.  
All I had to do now was to find a way to make the signal for the Morse code, which, I decided, would be a problem I could solve later.

Another issue, also related to my mental health problem, I had to solve was the instincts of the falcon.  
Although they weren't difficult to handle, they still encouraged me to act in ways the "human" didn't want to act (in example, I always had a certain desire to go and hunt some fresh meat). It wasn't a big issue, for now, but I knew they would start to be a real problem when I would inevitably start doubting of my identity and wonder if I still was a human despite what was happening. Fortunately, on the short term at least, I could wait some time before dealing with this problem.

Finally, I had to do a more in-depth examination of the food problem.  
I knew I would have to hunt for my food at some point but I needed to learn how to do so and practice whichever hunt technique I found the most efficient.  
The good news, one of the very few since I changed, was that I still had some bacon in my apartment and, thus, had some time before depending on hunting to eat.  
I walked to the edge of the nest, took a last look at the eggs and flew out of the nest.

Shortly after, I landed next to the bacon bag and looked at the weight measurement.  
500 grams.  
With the 70 grams of meat I ate each day, according to the research I made earlier this week, it would last about five or six days. Less if I ate more than I needed because of the lack of "experience" I had in judging food quantity with my new lifestyle or if the eggs happened to hatch before their parent came back.  
Just as I grabbed the bag and prepared to fly back to the nest, I realized I had an opportunity to learn how to take care of the eggs and how to raise three little falcons; something I would need if Murphy decided to come at me and make the eggs hatch.  
I let go of the bag, flew toward my computer and started to search information on Internet.  
The exercise was as tedious as it was last time but, after thirty minutes or so, I had managed to learn the basic knowledge I needed to take care of both the egg and the falcon, if they somehow hatched before their father came back from the rehab center.  
When I finally finished, I had to resist the human inside me and keep the computer up and running instead of, as I always did, shutting it down properly. I knew it was an unlikely scenario, but I wanted the computer to be easily accessible if I needed to use it later to get some additional information on whatever problem I might encounter.  
I returned to the bacon bag and brought it to the nest. I didn't want it to be too far in case someone decided to repair the window in such a way I couldn't dive-bomb it again.

During the whole hour I spent brooding (AKA: sitting on the eggs and doing nothing else) to warm the eggs a little, I had plenty of time to think more about my current situation and come to the conclusion that the need to practice wasn't as urgent as I thought it. At first, I thought I had five or six days of bacon left in the best case scenario and less than three if the chicks hatched today. However, after learning an eyas (which is how you call a nestling falcon) needed up to two full days to hatch and realizing I could eat a little less than the "ideal" 70 grams, I was able to buy myself some more time. I now had between four and eight days to learn how to hunt.  
With this satisfying thought in mind, I reached the edge of the nest, closed my eyes and spread my wings wide open.  
I stayed like this for several seconds, enjoying the gentle breeze on my wings. It was such a good feeling I might even think it was worth being a falcon just to be able to have moments such as these.  
As I opened my eyes, I realized how lucky the father of the three to-be eyases was to have such a good nest.  
I could have an excellent view of the surrounding area without even having to be in the air. The opening didn't point toward the east or the west so the sun wouldn't be a problem during takeoff and landings. There was a powerful ridge lift just outside the nest, which made it easy to gain some altitude right at the start.  
There were plenty of easily catchable pigeons not far away.  
This place was perfect.  
And I was simply jealous.  
No. Not me. I was NOT jealous.  
The falcon in me was.  
His instincts made me jealous. The human I was wasn't jealous at all. The falcon was.

Not wanting to think too much about this jealousy problem, I took off and tried to focus on the fun part of my planning: flying. More precisely, I wanted to learn how I could recognize a thermal when I saw one or, at least, see if I could use the falcon's instincts to spot them.  
Still, I wasn't fooling myself. I knew I could live perfectly even if I only used the instincts to spot the thermals but I was just searching for an excuse to fly around aimlessly while trying to see how high I could soar. When I flew, I was able to think of something else than all the troubles I had to face.  
Nonetheless, I wasn't able to think of something else than the eggs. Not that it was an obsession, but a small part of me was always watching around for any possible threats as well as being ready to deal with it without delays.  
And I knew I would have nearly no troubles for that. I had the body of a peregrine falcon and the mind of a human. The falcon knew how to fly and use its claws. The human knew how to fight plan ahead during an aerial combat.  
The human had the knowledge and the falcon had the ability. Moreover, I wasn't just a "falcon". I was a  _peregrine_  falcon.  
I was the fastest animal on earth with a measured record of 389 km/h, which was faster than a Cessna grand caravan by the way, and I had amazing eyesight that made me able to spot preys six kilometers away.  
I had an amazing agility, an amazing speed and an amazing situation awareness.  
I was the Spitfire of the avian world.  
Any birds trying to reach the eggs would feel me hitting their wings at full speed before getting anywhere close to them.  
If I missed, like it happened 80% of the time for real falcons, I would chase them and force them to choose between getting away and be dinner.  
It might seem harsh, but taking care of the eggs while the other falcon was being healed was the only thing in this world able to make me feel human; no birds would remove that from me.  
They would be dead before getting even near the nest.

Suddenly, I realized knowledge and ability wasn't enough. I needed the experience.  
I needed practice, for real this time. Statistically, my chances weren't high but, come on! He hadn't seen me and I had the advantage of altitude, speed and maneuverability.  
If I was a Spitfire, he was that slow unarmed reconnaissance plane flying below, unaware of what was above it. He had no chance whatsoever.  
Plus, he was big enough to give the 70 grams of meat I needed with a large margin; with some luck, I could even have enough meat for two days! Even if I didn't like the idea of hunting so soon, the bacon reserve was too precious to skip such an easy opportunity.  
I quickly rolled left until I ended up upside down, pulled "up" and folded my wings until they nearly touched my belly.  
And down I went.  
Even if my wings were barely extended at all, I had no problem diving in a screw-like trajectory so I could keep my prey where I could see it best without turning my head.  
Barely a few tens of second later, I could already sense I reached the fastest speed I could. I had no way of knowing my speed, but I knew I was going  _very_ fast. I was above 200 km/h for sure.  
But, despite the speed, I had no problems in maintaining my trajectory and tracking the pigeon.  
Even better, he still didn't know I was diving on him. He was still flying unsuspicious about his fate.  
Not like it would change something for him, anyway. I was so close of him that he wouldn't have the time to avoid me.  
He was practically dead and about to be my dinner.  
I was so happy. It was the first time I tried to hunt and I had already managed to get a prey.

I nearly froze with terror.  
I was terrified by what I was about to do. I knew it was the most rational thing to do and that I would have to do it in less than a week but I was not ready. Not now. Not when I had another option.  
For a few seconds, I tried to continue what I was doing but I was unable to do it. It was stronger than me.  
I aborted my dive, avoiding the pigeon with just a few centimeters to spare, and checked the pigeon flapping his wings as he tried to get away as fast as he could.  
I couldn't believe myself.  
I couldn't believe I had been  _happy_  at the thought of killing him so I could eat him. I couldn't believe how easy it was, how  _natural_  it felt.  
It seemed obvious the happiness and the easiness were caused by what I had become. If I were a human, the very idea of eating a freshly killed pigeon while the body was still hot would be horrifying and diving toward a moving target like I just did would be very challenging.  
And yet, all I felt was happiness at the thought of eating something fresh, for once, and a sensation of complete control during the dive.  
Moreover, I had found the whole thing easy.  
It was like I already knew how to do it.  
It was like if I were a  _real_  falcon instead of a human with the body of a falcon.

I wasn't even sure what I was now. I only expected the instincts to be some kind of "hints" my human mind could use to fly. I only expected them to be some sort of manual I could read and try to apply to my everyday life.  
I never expected them to be so clear. I never expected them to guide me like they did.  
I expected them to act as some kind of flight instructor but the way they acted made me feel like I was the instructor and the student at the same time; like if I was learning something I already knew.  
What did that make me?  
I mean, how could I claim to be different from any other peregrine falcon when I had the body, the knowledge and the feelings of one? How could I even claim to be a human when I didn't have the same body, the same knowledge or even the same feelings?  
Could I even claim to be a real falcon when I still had the mind of a human and when I was able to think of what I was?  
I just wanted to forget everything and understand if I was a human or a bird. I just wanted everything to be simple so I could easily know what this whole transformation thing made me or, in the worse case scenario, if I was something.  
I wasn't a bird but I wasn't a human either.

I couldn't take it anymore.  
I turned back toward the nest and sat on the eggs to brood them again. It probably was the only way I could get any comfort of any kind.  
I suddenly wanted to cry.  
I wanted to cry so I could feel a little better and get rid of all the sadness and frustration accumulating since I changed into a bird.  
But, as a falcon/human, I was  _physically_ unable to do so.  
I was unable to let go of my feeling.  
I was unable to stop them from accumulating in me without stopping.  
I felt just like a pressure cooker with a deliberately blocked safety valve while the pressure inside was constantly building up and unable to escape.  
My sadness and my frustration felt like some kind of pressure I couldn't get rid of.  
Just like the pressure cooker, I was watching helplessly as the pressure slowly but surely increased.  
I feared of what would happen when the pressure would become too great to handle and would rupture the whole structure to spray boiling water all over the room.  
I was afraid of myself. I was afraid of what I might do.

Without thinking about it, I let my wings sled down around the eggs. The contact made me feel better, somehow.  
Of course, it didn't let the pressure go away but it felt like I was stronger. They made me feel like I could handle a lot more pressure before being unable to hold it. They made me safe. They allowed me to feel the pressure a little less, even if it was still present and increasing.  
After a few minutes like that, I was able to think clearly. I knew the eggs made me feel human as they gave me something to do. They gave me a mission, a goal, and something else to think about than my condition. Helping them allowed me to feel like a naturalist taking care of some orphans birds.  
Helping them was the only "link" I had with the human world.  
I repositioned myself so I could feel the eggs better. I wanted to have a better feeling of the "link" between the human world and me.  
I heard a crack.  
To any normal person, this sound would be inaudible, but my… this body had a better hearing than the average human.  
Scared at the thought I had killed one of the birds before he even got out of the egg, I stood up and looked at the cracked egg.

I didn't crack it.  
The eyas did.  
The little eyas in the egg was breaking his egg with his small egg tooth and, in less than 48 hours, he would be outside of his egg and able to enjoy the life of a bird.  
It seemed like the most beautiful thing in the world. I would, without hesitation, class this as the first World's Wonder.  
It seemed like this moment was the most important event in history and that it was worthy of mention in every history book in existence.  
There was no word for it.  
It was the definition of Beauty. It  _was_  beauty.  
Without any hesitation of any kind, I vowed to protect him and his sisters/brothers. I vowed to protect them from any dangers that might harm them.  
It seemed like the obvious thing to do, as if it was unthinkable to even consider the option of not doing it.  
It felt like if protecting them was like calling 911 when one saw someone heavily wounded after an accident. It was the obvious thing to do.

Not doing it felt like a monstrous, disgusting and unthinkable thing.  
The three birds would live.  
Nothing would harm them.  
Not on my watch.


	10. Lightning

I looked, saddened, at the nearly empty bag of bacon.  
It hadn’t held three days since I had planned the whole rationing.  
In my previous estimate, I was estimating that each eyases would eat about 30 grams of bacon each days.  
In reality, they ate 80 grams. It was more than I ate even if I didn’t tried to ration myself. As if it wasn’t enough, two of them (a male and a female) had already hatched; just because it made me feel more human, I had named them Antoine and Beatrice.  
It wasn’t something I really complained about, but it wasn’t very convenient to see your planned daily meat consumption increase from 170 grams to 210 grams without warning.

I took the last bit of bacon left and ate it slowly. I knew it was selfish to do so and that I should have gave it to the eyases, but I wanted to enjoy the last “human” meal I would have for the rest of my life.  
I had now passed the point of no return.  
Starting now, I either hunted like a real falcon, or died of starvation and brought three fine birdies down with me. That wasn’t even an option: if I had to die, I would do so when I knew it wouldn’t put the eyases in danger.  
I took the bag and dropped it in a garbage can before coming back to the nest. I knew the little birds needed a constant brooding which, unfortunately, I couldn’t provide.  
I could only brood them for a while before doing whatever I had to do outside the nest and rush back to brood them again.  
It required a lot more work than I imagined at first but, hey, how I could consider myself a decent falcon/human being if I left them behind until they died of hypothermia?

After brooding them for about twenty minutes, I spotted a flock of seagulls about 500 meters away from my nest. From a falcon perspective, they were really close to me with less than 30 seconds of flying if I flew directly toward them. Normally, I would have taken my time to get there and used the thermals to save some energy. In doing so, I would have been sure to have enough energy to hunt while trying to be unnoticed.  
Unfortunately, this was a luxury I couldn’t afford: in the first stages of development, the eyas weren’t left alone more than two minutes.  
Two minute was the time I needed, if I flew quickly, to go to the seagulls, make a short dive and come back.  
I would only have the time to do one attempt; after that, I would need to come back to brood the chicks a little before doing another attempt on whichever bird had the bad idea of coming too close from me.  
I walked toward the exit, carefully pushed the eyases closer together and flew out of the nest.

As I approached my future prey, cursing at how I couldn’t use any thermals, I enjoyed the sight my new eyes gave me. Even if I was more than a thousand meter above the ground, I could still see the ground as if, from a human, I was just a few tens of meters above the ground.  
If I knew how to read on the lips, I would probably be able to tell what they were telling each other without great difficulties. It was like if I had telescopes instead of eyes.  
But this wasn’t the “coolest” thing about my eyes.  
It was my two sets of foveae.  
With human’s eyes, I would only able to focus on one “point” in my field of vision (i.e. straight ahead). However, with this new set of eyes and my two pairs of foveae, I had two “focus points”. The first one pointed straight ahead and sacrificed the “zoom” to have binocular vision while the second one, pointing about 45 degrees outward of each eyes, had a much higher “zoom” at the cost of having monocular vision.  
This weird feature (for a human at least) allowed me, in theory, to track three different “targets” at the same time.  
If I put some effort into it, I could keep an eye on the flock of seagulls ahead and, at the same time, watch that group of college student chatting together on my left.

With a sudden shock, probably caused by the sight of the group of student, I realized how alone I was now.  
I had no one with whom I could share my worries. No one I could ask for some help. No one I could see and chat about vague stuff like the weather or how good my day was. No one I could interact with.  
Despite what I planning to do with Morse code, I would never be able to really _talk_ with someone. Every communications would need to go trough a keyboard or Morse code.  
No matter what I was telling myself, I wouldn’t be able to hold this for a long time; it was just a week since I talked to someone and I already started to miss it badly.  
The only “persons” I could see like being “acquaintances” were two little birds too young to fly or even to be able to see the world around them.   
Too young to be left alone, as they needed constant brooding to keep them warm, and to not depend on me for their food.  
What felt like the weirdest thing in my new life wasn’t the fact that I somehow got transformed into a peregrine falcon but rather the fact that I was acting like a surrogate parent for two (and possibly three) young birds that had the misfortune to be separated from their parents and how quickly I began to see it as normal to brood and feed them.  
But, as I said, what kind of human/bird would leave them to die?

Soon after this depressing realization, I was already above the seagulls. It was nearly a week since I became whatever I was now and I was still amazed by how fast I could be.  
I quickly calculated a dive solution and immediately dove down toward the seagull I was targeting.  
Just like for the pigeon from last time, my prey was unaware of its fate.  
Good. It would make it easy.  
Still amazed by the sheer speed I could reach, I continued my dive as I fell rapidly toward the dinner.  
Wait….  
The trajectory was off.  
Without having to think about it, I corrected the error and started to plan the kill in itself.  
He suddenly looked above him and saw me sooner than I would have liked it. Without surprise, he turned sharply to the right; apparently, seagulls don’t liked to be hit by a bird going at several hundreds kilometers per hours.  
Nevertheless, my lack of experience made it so I wasn’t ready for such an early evasive maneuver and, thanks to that, I was unable to correct my trajectory quickly enough to get him.  
Consequently, I missed by more than two meters.  
Of course.  
What did I expected?  
How could I even think I could be able to live like a falcon when I still lacked the knowledge of flight because of my human mind? How could I even expect to be able to survive in a world where your meal actively avoided you? How could I expect to survive when I had a chance to be the dinner of someone else?  
I couldn’t call myself a real falcon nor could I call myself a real human.  
Whatever I was, I wasn’t something that should exist; that is, assuming I was something.  
After leveling my flight, not even bothering to look if I still had a chance to grab a seagull, I turned back to the nest.

As soon as I landed, I reached the two birdies and started to brood in the nest box.  
It took me a whole hour to get over all my thoughts.  
One hour to accept I wasn’t something that should even exist  
One hour to accept I had no chance whatsoever to raise the two eyases I was taking care of, let alone three.  
One hour to accept I couldn’t hunt well enough to bring everyone here enough food to survive.  
One hour to accept their lives depended on the return of their father.  
I knew that if he had to die on his way back, I would never be able to give the eyases a real “falcon” life.  
I mean, I had no idea how I was supposed to teach them how to fly, how to hunt or even which birds was eatable and which birds they should avoid at all cost!  
Once I was finally able to think clearly, I decided to make a quick look in my apartment and check if, by any chance, I still had something edible.  
I knew it would take more than two minutes to do so, but what other choices did I have? I wasn’t able to hunt!

Once I landed on my bed, I was hit by a powerful surge of nostalgia. A surge of nostalgia I wanted to avoid. It was too painful for my taste.  
But, as I looked around, I was unable to prevent all my memories of my previous life to rush at me.  
I couldn’t block the memories of all the time I had overslept on the very bed I was standing on. I couldn’t stop myself from remembering all the time I was angry at Microsoft Word when it decided to be smarter than me and messed up all the text I was writing. I couldn’t block the memories of swearing each time I managed to burn the meal I was preparing. I couldn’t help but think of all the music I had listened to on the radio. I had no choice but to remember all the time I opened the refrigerator and wondered what I could eat.  
It was something I was about to do for the last time in my life.  
I flew my way to the top of the refrigerator and, just like I did a few days ago, tried to open the door.  
Unfortunately, it didn’t go as well as last time.   
Just as the door opened, I slipped and fell on the ground; it had happened too fast for me to recover and stop myself from hitting the floor.  
Luckily, despite the pain caused by crash-landing of my left wing, I managed to stop the door from closing.  
As I expected it, there was nothing in there I could use as food with my current digestive system. Disappointed, I walked away and let the door close itself. As I spread my wings to go back to the nest, I still felt the small pain in my left wing but, thinking it would go away in a bit, shrugged it off. Anyway, I had to brood the eyases now.  
I flapped my wing and flew back to the nest to check on Antoine, Beatrice and their soon-to-be brother/sister. 

Twenty minutes later, as I was warming the little birds, I still felt a small pain in my wing.  
Worried I might have injured myself in a more dire way than I though, I decided to go back to my apartment and take a look at my wing with the mirror I had in my bathroom.  
Since I couldn’t do anything about it, even if I discovered I was heavily injured, I wasn’t sure if I was really moved by a desire of diagnostic or if I just wanted to see what I looked like now.

As I landed in front of the mirror, and looked at the reflection, I realized I wasn’t seeing myself.  
I wasn’t seeing the usual guy of average height and weight with long and curly dark-blond hair. I wasn’t seeing those blue eyes I had seen for nearly two decades. I wasn’t seeing that long nose and those two arms. I wasn’t seeing those two hands with opposable thumbs.  
I was looking at a streamlined body covered in feathers.  
Instead of the black skin I saw for 18 years, I was looking at a chest covered with a nice pattern of black and white feathers. My legs were now yellow and incredibly short compared to the olds ones. Eight razor sharp talons made to tear up meat after killing it replaced my toes. A sharp and solid beak now replaced my soft mouth. My two eyes were now completely black and impossible to turn in their orbits. My two arms were simply gone and a pair of wings had been added on my back.  
I wanted to get out of this body. It couldn’t be mine! It shouldn’t have a third transparent eyelid! It shouldn’t have a hard and sharp mouth! It shouldn’t have feathers! It shouldn’t have razors instead of toes! It shouldn’t be able to move features fixed on its rear.  
It should look like a human, not like a falcon.

I violently shook my arms, thinking of them as if they were stuck in the belly, but my wings moved instead. Once I understood it would change nothing, I tried to move my feet. I wanted to shake them fast enough so that the costume I used as a body would slip away and allow the human break free. I tried to move my fingers, hoping I could use them to take the costume away, but nothing moved.  
Nothing.  
I had nothing looking like finger or hands.  
All I had was a head, two wings, two feet and a torso.  
I was made for speed and, to achieve that, this body only had the bare minimum. Everything I could survive without, such as hands or the ability to talk, had been removed to save weight.  
Just like a P-38, this body only had the cockpit, the engines, the wings and the landing gear. The rest was “useless” and removed to fly faster.

I zoomed out of the house and climbed as high as I could as fast as I could. I didn’t want to see my apartment anymore. I didn’t want to see anything reminding me I used to be a human. I wanted to forget I was a human trapped inside a P-38, unable to even reach the canopy as his hand were glued to the command stick and his feet glued to the yaw control.  
No wait….  
That wasn’t true.  
I wasn’t a human trapped inside the cockpit of a P-38.  
I _was_ the P-38 with a human trying to escape my cockpit.  
And I didn’t like it.  
I wanted to be _in_ a plane, not _be_ the plane.  
I wanted to be able to exit the plane and only go in it when _I_ decided to.  
I wanted to be able to move my hands and open the canopy without moving the control stick on which my hands were glued.

I turned upside down and fell toward the ground.  
I wanted to crash so that the impact could breach the cockpit and allow the human to escape.  
I knew the crash wouldn’t make the plane suffer. I knew the plane was way too fast for that. I knew the plane travelled the distance of his fuselage every three millisecond or so.  
I knew the plane would be too fast to even realize he was suffering and that the black boxes wouldn’t have the time to register the pain before being destroyed by the impact.  
And, after the crash, the pilot would finally taste freedom.  
He would finally be able to walk out of the cockpit. He would finally be able to talk to someone else. He would finally be able to eat something without having to kill it.  
He would be free.  
I continued my dive, without any desire to end it.  
I wanted the dive to be fast enough to break the canopy.  
And I knew it would be. I was the fastest plane in the world. I could reach speed above 360 km/h. I could go faster than a Cessna Grand Caravan.  
I was the definition of going fast. I was the master of speed.  
I _was_ speed.  
And I would crash before the little voice in my cockp…. Head would be able to convince me to stop.  
I was just 100 meters above the ground, now.  
I was just one second from escaping the plane.  
One second before ending it all.  
One second before being…. What the hell was I doing?!

I pulled up as hard as I could and, thanks to this amazing body, managed to recover more than 40 meters above the ground.  
I couldn’t believe what I just tried to do.  
I couldn’t believe I nearly killed myself _intentionally_.  
I couldn’t believe I nearly killed the chicks I had to take care of.

Terrified by my suicide attempt, I headed back to the nest.  
Just like the other time, I was returning with empty claws and nothing to feed them.  
I was returning with yet another proof of my inability to take care of them.  
Just like every time, I wanted to cry away the pain I was feeling.  
Just like every time, I was unable to do so.  
Just like every time, I felt like a pressure cooker about to rupture from the pressure inside it. This time, however, the pressure surpassed by several orders of magnitude my previous “record”. I couldn’t even imagine what I would do if, as I feared it, some of the birds I took care of died because of all the time they had passed without someone to brood them. I couldn’t even find the courage to go higher to check if they were OK.

I only managed to look up when I was less than ten meters of the nest.  
What I saw scared me and, at the same time, made me happy.  
The happy part was to see the falcon I knew to be the father taking care of the birdies.  
The scary part was… Well, it was the same thing.  
I knew peregrines falcons were extremely territorials when they had eyases to take care of.  
I knew he would see me as a treat because that’s how I would see another falcon if he was so close to my hypothetical nest.  
I also knew my only option was to fly away as fast as I could without looking behind.  
I knew I had to fly out of his territory and find my own so I could continue my falcony life.  
So I turned right and flapped my wings like I never did in the past.  
I did so until I couldn’t hold it and my wings feared the very idea of moving because of the effort.  
I did so until I found what seemed to be an acceptable place to sleep for one night; I was too tired to find my definitive home/nest today.  
Only then, I found the strength to look behind.  
The other falcon hadn’t even bothered to chase me and, even better, he had somehow managed to bring a prey to his eyases.

After resting for a while, I took off and, making sure I never went close to his territory, rode up the thermal in the area until I could find an easy target: a pigeon.  
There was a seagull closer to my temporary nest but I knew a pigeon would be easier to catch. After all, when I had nearly caught a bird on my first hunt, I was aiming at a pigeon.  
Like the first time I tried this, I calculated a dive solution.  
Like the first time, I quickly rolled upside down and pulled “up” to start the dive faster.  
This time, I wouldn’t miss.  
This time, I would hit and kill my prey.  
This time, I would eat something a real falcon would eat.  
This time, I would really start my life as a falcon.

Less than ten seconds after starting to dive, I realized, happily, that the eyases I had been taking care of would have the chance to live the normal life they deserved; a _real_ falcon would take care of them, not a strange mix between a falcon and a human.  
I didn’t know where I would decide to live tomorrow, but one thing was sure:  
it would be somewhere where I would be able to see the eyases everyday.  
That way, if they were in trouble, I would be able to help them. I would be able to help them receive what I couldn’t have: a normal and a happy life.


	11. Kicked out of his world...

Ten days.

It was now ten days since I had become a peregrine falcon and just a few days since I had left the eyases to their father, named Spirit, before going away to find a new nest for myself.  
Nevertheless, a _lot_ of things happened during these few days. 

Firstly, I had found my own nest and claimed a territory for myself.  
Even if it wasn’t as good as Spirit’s nest, I could still consider myself lucky to have the nest I had. The nest, placed on the roof of a sky-scrapper, offered me a good view of the surroundings and allowed me to see Spirit’s nest and my old apartment. It also featured an air conditioner next to where I slept which, thanks to how those things worked, meant I had a warm breeze of air around me when I slept. My territory offered a vast amount of easily catchable pigeons and was free of any possible competition from another predator. 

Secondly, the Spirit’s third egg had hatched to give a male, named Colin, and all three eyases were fine. So far, Spirit didn’t seem to have a lot of trouble when it came to take care of his eyases; I was regularly dropping a pigeon or two near his territory to help him a bit.

Thirdly, I had finally managed to accept my situation.  
Of course, I still missed my human life but, unlike the first days, I was able to live without feeling like I needed to cry every ten seconds.  
Strangely, even if I knew I should consider this acceptance as the best news, knowing the three eyases were fine made me a lot happier.

Fourthly, I had been able to decide on my new identity, which made it easier to be in peace with my new situation.  
Before today, I wanted to be a human _only_ and to have nothing in common with the “real” falcons.  
However, and I had only realized it yesterday as I tried to sleep, this wasn’t possible. I couldn’t reject the “falcon” aspect of myself. It would simply drive me crazy to force myself to ignore I was partly a peregrine falcon.  
All I had to do now was to decide how much of a falcon I was and how much of a human I was.

 Finally, I had decided to continue the investigation I had stopped ten days ago.  
At first, I had been stopped by my inability to invest and take care of the birds at the same time. Then, after my suicide attempt, I had stopped because I was scared. I feared what I might have done if I was exposed to something related to my previous life.  
Fortunately, this fear was over. I was finally fine with my life.  
That absence of fear made the investigation possible.  
I knew it wouldn’t change anything at all for me but it would give me something to do when I wasn’t hunting or trying to help Spirit at a distance. It would also satisfy my curiosity: my love in science was too great to ignore all the questions raised by what had happened to me. 

I walked to the edge of the building and placed myself so my back faced the “outside” of my nest.  
I then closed my eyes and, after a few seconds, simply pushed myself away to let myself fall toward the ground. I always enjoyed that moment. I always enjoyed the sensation of free fall during the first few seconds of the dive. Of course, it wasn’t as exciting as it would have been with a human body, but it was always amusing to think I was jumping off a sky scrapper on a regular basis.  
After a few seconds I rolled a little to make my belly face the building, pulled up and headed toward the forest. I wanted to have an aerial view of the Path and, hopefully, notice clues I might have missed before.  
I knew the construction site was a lot closer but, somehow, I found the forest less threatening and scary than any other place I could go to investigate. Plus, the forest wasn’t in Spirit’s territory. As unintuitive as it might seem, being attacked by another falcon can be very distracting.

It took me about half an hour to get there.  
I could have made it there faster without any effort but, since I wanted to enjoy the beautiful weather, I wasted a lot of time flying in some thermals longer than I needed.  
Once I was above the Path, I almost “laughed” in my head. There were so much details and clues I missed the first time I went there to investigate! So much clues I had missed when I was a human, either because I didn’t have a good angle of vision or simply because they were too large for me to see as a whole were now obvious to me!  
Investigating that place as a human was like if trying to read a book when I was only allowed to see one character every five seconds without taking any notes; doing it as a falcon was like if, suddenly, I was not only allowed to take notes but also to see the whole page at once. I could see exactly where the gillette had noticed me and started to chase me. I could easily see where I was when I had spotted it. I could, without difficulties, understand why the hawk had told me to run in a certain direction instead of another.  
I could even see where the gillette had walked _before_ he saw me.  
Hoping it would lead me to wherever he lived, I decided to follow its tracks. It would be hilariously easy to do it. Even if I knew long before now the importance of air reconnaissance during a disaster, I only fully understood it during this flight. From up there, I could see everything on the ground and inspect a much larger area than if I was on foot.

After a few minutes of flying, the track led me to an area surrounding a nice lake inside the forest.  
There, I could see several other gillette tracks, all of them sharing a common point: they all disappeared at the same place. It was like if a large group of gillettes had all climbed in the same helicopter before it took-off.  
It was quite ironic. I had just acquired a wonderful way to continue my investigation but all the clues I collected thanks to it only raised more questions than it solved.  
Disappointed, I decided to turn around and head back home. I knew there was nothing more I could do here and, honestly, I just wanted to enjoy the weather and fly in my territory.  
A few seconds later, as I had completed my turn, I saw it.

I saw the dead body of a bird of prey, already eaten by another predator. I wasn’t an expert in bird anatomy but I was a bird for long enough to know exactly what had happened.  
The poor bird had lost a wing mid-air and crashed violently on the ground; I was sure of that because, sometime, I had to let the body of my prey fall on the ground if it was too heavy for me.  
The strange thing the dead bird was how clean the wound was. It didn’t looked like any wound a predator might do. It was so clean it could have passed as a chirurgical amputation made by a laser cutter.  
It wasn’t natural.  
Pushed by curiosity, and the hope I would discover something useful for once, I slowly lowered my altitude until I was less than 50 meters above the ground.  
What I saw will probably stay in my memory forever.  
It was a slaughter.  
A lot of animals were dead all around the area. They all had wounds as clean as the bird’s wound; some of them even had their bones slightly charred. It was like if someone had used a giant laser cutter and aimed it at every animals unfortunate enough to be there. Whoever did that hadn’t killed for his survival. He had killed for the sake of killing. He was a monster.

I suddenly felt extremely vulnerable.  
I felt as if an invisible danger was somewhere nears me and that I would be unable to react in time if the danger attacked me.  
I felt like if some kind of invisible super-owl was flying on my six o’clock while wondering the best way to kill me.  
I felt weak.  
Too weak.  
I didn’t want to stay here. I didn’t want to see the slaughter. I didn’t want to be anywhere near this lake anymore.  
I quickly turned toward my house, which now meant my nest, and flapped my wings madly. I wanted to be as fast as I could be. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep such a speed all the way back but it was irrelevant. I didn’t want to use a high _cruise_ speed. I wanted pure speed. I wanted to be a Spitfire on war emergency power (or WEP, for short). I knew I would use a lot of energy and that my style of flying could almost be seen as the definition of inefficiency but it wasn’t important. Just like a fighter pilot using the WEP, I wanted to be fast for a few moments without regard to the huge fuel usage. I would only slow down to a “normal” speed once I would be out of danger.

After 30 seconds or so of flying like that, I became too tired to maintain the pace and had to slow down to a more reasonable speed.  
I still thought about the slaughter. I couldn’t stop thinking about those poor animals shot for no reasons apart from being there.  
I still thought of the poor bird who had been shot in the air. I had been a bird long enough to know exactly what had happened to her. She had seen her left wing burn off. Then, she had started to roll rapidly and fall toward the ground. She had, obviously, tried to regain control but aerodynamic had made it impossible.  
She had seen herself fall toward the ground without being able to control anything until it was too late to recover even if she had both her wings. She had been alive to realize she would die whether she regained control or not.  
It was a horrible way to die.

Hoping to stop thinking about it; I started to calculate a rough estimate of how far I was from home. If I rounded up (a lot) and assumed I sprinted at 120 km/h for 30 seconds, I should have travelled one kilometer by now; which put me about 34 kilometers from my destination. Assuming I had a cruising speed of 70 km/h, it would put me about 30 minutes away.  
It was too long for me.  
I just wanted to go home and rest in the warm breeze of the air conditioner.

Ten minutes later, I was still far away from home and the air conditioner. Despite my attempts, I was still thinking of the slaughter.  
It was too much for me. I mean, why would anyone do this? How could someone wake up and decide it would be fun to go near a lake and kill every animal on sight? What kind of…  
**BAM!  
** Wait, what?

It took me two seconds to understand.  
Some kind of human was trying to shoot me down, just like someone took down that poor bird.  
I looked, franticly, on the ground and tried to find whoever was shooting me. Thanks my eyes, I only needed a few seconds to do so.  
**BAM!**  
He was on my two O’clock low.  
Without losing sight of him, as it would result in my death, I started to fly in the most random fashion I could. My goal was to be a difficult target while I tried to figure out what to do next.  
I felt like a spitfire trying to avoid the anti-aircraft shells above an enemy airfield.

On my side, I had the ability to fly speed, maneuverability and a human intelligence.  
**BAM!**  
On his side, he had… Well, everything a human have.  
I reviewed all the options I had.  
What if I turned and took a dump on him to distract him? No… I would need to go too slow and fly straight; anyway, there was no way I could hit him.  
Simply going as fast as I could in straight line and get out of range? No… I would be an easy target.  
Gaining some speed with a good dive and go away? No… I was too low to build up enough speed.  
No wait… It was obvious. Why couldn’t I think of it before?  
I had human intelligence and so he had. But he didn’t know it.  
He though I was stupid and incapable of deception.  
I would use this lack of knowledge to my advantage. I would prove him wrong and survive to tell the tale.  
I just had to wait for his next shot and hope he would miss again.  
I slightly made my flight more predictable. I flew in a slightly straighter line and kept a more or less constant altitude.  
I wanted to be a more interest…                        
**BAM!**  
I swear I saw that bullet passed in front of me.  
I immediately folded my right wing and, without unfolding it, tried to regain control.  
To any humans, I looked like I had just been shot in my wing.

I was rolling quickly and falling down like a rock.  
I knew I would be able, unlike the bird I had seen, to recover from my dive. All I had to do was to unfold my wing and pull up. But the shooter didn’t know that. He was already smiling at what he though to be a successful kill.  
He had no idea of how wrong he was.  
Seconds before reaching the point at which I couldn’t recover in time, I unfolded my wing and leveled my flight. Before he could overcome his surprise and do another attempt, I was already out of range.  
I had survived my first “combat” of my new life.  
My opponent had been a human.  
He had made the first strike. For no reasons whatsoever.  
All he wanted to do was to kill for the sake of killing.

When I landed on my nest, I was disgusted of my own specie.  
I couldn’t believe a human had slaughtered innocent animals and that another one had tried to shoot me down.  
I didn’t mind the killing in itself; I killed at once or twice everyday since I ran out of bacon. I minded the absence of reasons for the kills. I would have understood, and agreed, if they had done that to eat and/or to protect themselves, but those monsters had no such reasons. They had shot for the sole purpose of killing because they could.  
I knew the majority of the population, including myself before the Change, wouldn’t have cared about what I had seen. Even worse, some would have enjoyed the whole thing.  
I didn’t really like my (old) specie anymore. It seemed like the human values and mine were incompatibles. They saw me and the other falcons as some stupid animals and thought it was OK to kill us without reasons; I saw the other falcons and I as… well, as you can expect it.  
I couldn’t claim to be a human _and_ a falcon. Both of these were incompatible.  
I had to decide if I was a human with the body of a falcon or a falcon with the mind of a human.

I took-off and flew back to my old house.  
I wanted to know if I was a human or a falcon. The test for that was simple. All I needed to do was to do something I liked as a human and see if I still liked it. If I did, it meant I was a human with the body of a falcon. If I didn’t, it meant I was a falcon with the mind of a human.  
I landed on my bed and lay down. Back when I was a human, I liked to sleep in this bed. I closed my eyes, just to make the experience closer to what it used to be, and waited a few seconds to see how I felt.

I didn’t like it. The bed was too soft and too low for my taste. The room was too small and too oppressing. I only had one way to get out. I couldn’t see anything useful around me. I couldn’t feel the wind around me.  
I missed my real home. I wanted to be high above the ground. I wanted to have a clear view of my territory. I wanted to feel the wind in my wings. I wanted to be able to takeoff in any direction I wanted. I wanted to see the sky. I wanted my home to be open.

I stood up and flew back home.  
I was now sure of my identity. I wasn’t a human with the body of a falcon. I wasn’t some strange mix between a human and a falcon.  
I was a peregrine falcon.  
I wasn’t a human and proud of it. I was proud not to be the member of a specie taking pleasure in killing for the sake of killing.

I was a peregrine falcon with the mind of a human and I was proud of it.


	12. And his house...

_“Well boys, I reckon this is it. Nuclear combat toes to toes with the ruskies!”_

I took another bite of the pigeon I had killed a few hours ago as the plane’s captain put a cowboy hat on his head. I was lying down on a building not far away from my territory to watch a movie the Sharing was projecting as part of a community event of some sort. I hadn’t arrived soon enough to see the title but, so far, it looked like a good movie; the story was centered on the crew of a B-52 who had received the order to conduct a nuclear strike on Russia by following the “wing attack plan R”.  
Normally, I wouldn’t risk flying during the night. At night, owls could easily attack me before I could even see them with the poor vision I had in the dark. However, today’s moon was a (nearly) full. As long as I didn’t fly too fast and avoided flying too close to the buildings, I wasn’t really in danger of a midair collision; my nest was large enough to allow a safe landing even with the low visibility I had.

Somehow, watching the movie made me sad. Even if I liked my body and adored my ability to fly in the air, I still missed the time when I was a human.  
I missed being able to go there and take a seat to watch the movie like any other human being. I wanted to be able to laugh like everyone in the improvised theater and smile when a funny line was dropped. I wanted to have someone next to me to whom I could make stupid comments about the movie. I wanted to have feet and be able to move them in the sand just for the satisfying feeling of the sand around my feet. I wanted hands and fingers to grab some popcorn and a tongue to taste the salt on it.  
But it was an impossible dream. I was a falcon and, for the years to come, I would have to satisfy myself with pigeons and, occasionally, seagulls.  
I knew it was my entire fault.  
It was I who took the decision to take a walk in a forest. It was I who took the decision to follow the orders of some sort of “telepathic” hawk. It was I who took the decision to go paranoiac and dress up like a homeless. It was I who took the decision to have the “bright” idea of sleeping in an abandoned construction site. It was I who took the decision to make a stupid move that got me bitten by a falcon while I could have called the rehab center and waited.  
Even if there was no way I could have known what would happen, I took the series of stupid decisions leading to my falcon life.  
I was the only one to blame.

Once the movie ended, with “We’ll meet again” for the soundtrack, I took off and headed toward my nest. A few weeks ago, when I was still a human, I would have asked what the movie was so I would be able to rent it later or, if I were too shy to ask, I would have tried to remember a few lines in order to make a quick search on internet.  
Unfortunately, none of these options were available to me. I couldn’t ask anyone nor could I search it by myself. Not that it would change anything. Even if I knew the title, I wouldn’t be able to rent it or even to use the TV to watch it without assistance.  
After what seemed to be a long flight, I landed next to the air conditioner. Even if I was exhausted, I took a moment to watch the moon. Thirty seconds later, I noticed an owl flying with what seemed to be a small bird in its claws. As a human, I would have felt sad for the dead bird, but now that I been a falcon for almost two whole weeks, I wasn’t feeling anything. I wasn’t seeing a poor bird killed by an owl. I was seeing a potential predator about to enjoy a meal he had just killed. It wasn’t sad, it was just something normal that happened every day.  
If I still had a mouth, I would have chuckled and smiled.  
I was impressed, and amused, by how quickly someone could adapt to a new situation even if it meant that everything he knew before was of no help whatsoever.  
I had become a falcon less than two weeks ago and yet, I was already considering it as normal to worry about being attacked by an owl when I was about to sleep on the top of a sky-scrapper because the height allowed me to save some potential energy for tomorrow. It didn’t even felt weird to eat a pigeon instead of popcorn when I was going to see a movie.  
If I ever manage to communicate with a human in my life, I will be sure to talk about those small “details” of my life. These details were the most interesting thing to share about my experience. The big picture was easy to imagine but no one could ever think of all the small everyday “challenges” I had to cope with.

* * *

 

I flared as fast as I could and caught the dead pigeon mid-air, just like all peregrine falcons did (or at least, tried) after killing their preys. During the first few days of my new life, I had a lot of trouble doing this and, most of the time, I would miss and I would have to land if I wanted to take my prey. However, now that I had some experience, I was quite good at it. Still, catching pigeons mid-air was a skill I never imagined I would come to develop in my life.  
I landed on a nearby building and started eating the tasty pigeon. Honestly, I was becoming sick of it. Although I still found them quite tasty, they were basically the only things I ate since I started hunting. Of course, there were a lot of birds I could eat other than pigeons but they were still the best choice as it only took one pigeon to satisfy my daily need and that they were quite easy to catch.

After taking the last piece of meat I could take, I took off and headed to some part of the town I hadn’t visited before. It wasn’t the most exciting activity in the world, but it was always interesting to look at the differences between the districts of this town and, sometime, I would have the joy of discovering a surprisingly strong thermal. When I was lucky enough to find one of these, I would pass hours doing nothing but using it to do reach high altitudes and make a good numbers of vertical dives just to see how fast I could go. In some occasions, I even managed go so fast that I had to recover from my dive just a few seconds after reaching my maximum speed.  
No words could describe what I felt during those few seconds during which I traveled more than one hundred meters each _seconds_. It was something I would never get sick of, no matter how long I lived or how many times I did it.

This time, however, I noticed something strange when I passed above my nest.  
Well, more like unusual.  
I could see what look like a red-tailed hawk soar in _my_ territory. The unusual thing with this was that they weren’t very common in urban areas. Since they primarily predated on rodents, they preferred to live in forest, where mice and rats were more abundant. Also, my territory didn’t have a lot of rodent. Hunting in it wasn’t worth the risk of starting a fight with a peregrine falcon. Either the hawk didn’t know that or either there was something fishy about that red-tailed.

Since I had nothing better to do, I decided it was unusual enough to deserve a small “investigation”; after all, I couldn’t be sure that I was the only one “bird-human” in this world.  
Perfectly aware I would end up on a dead trail, I turned left and circled in a thermal. I wasn’t sure what to look for. I mean, even if he was had been transformed into a bird, there was no ways I could know if he was a “real” hawk or a “human-hawk” unless I found some way to talk to him. I didn’t really cared about that, though. I didn’t really mind that I probably wouldn’t get any information from this. I just wanted to try to stalk another bird of prey; it was a challenge I wanted to achieve for some reasons.  
The whole challenge was based on how peregrines and red-tailed interacted; although I would never do such a thing – it seemed like something awful to me – peregrine falcons sometime went after red-tailed hawks. If I went too close or looked like I was putting too much effort in increasing my altitude, the red-tail would think I was planning to eat him. If it happened, no matter if he was a real hawk or not, he would go away and I would lose him. Of course, it was the same thing for any bird I predated on, but stalking a hawk was a lot harder than stalking a pigeon: even if the pigeons had a much larger field of vision, their eyesight was nowhere near the eyesight of a hawk.

The hawk stayed above the same area for one hour or two and suddenly changed direction. I knew the real challenge would start now. The red-tail was actively looking for predators around him. I was literally trying to discretely follow someone searching for me.  
I waited until he was far away, yet still close enough to be easily visible, before I started to follow him. I always made sure I had a lower altitude and that I stayed behind him. I was a bird too; I knew he would mostly look above him and I knew our 6 o’clock was the “hardest” place to look.

We flew like that for a few minutes. For a human, “for a few minutes” meant less than a kilometer, however, for birds of prey like us, it meant we had had enough to get out of town and reach the rehab center in which Spirit had been taken care of not so long ago.  
I was filled with hope. If he landed in the barn, it would prove (for me) that he had been transformed into a bird just like I was. It would mean I would have someone who would fully understand me if I found a way to communicate with him. I wouldn’t be alone anymore. He just had to land and I would have someone to “talk” to.  
Unfortunately, he didn’t land. He just flew for some time and landed near a meadow in the forest. Somehow, I wasn’t really disappointed. I guess I was kind off expecting him not to land. Anyway, I turned back and headed toward my nest.

The return trip was a lot shorter; peregrine falcons are quite faster than red-tailed hawks. During the trip, since I had quite a lot of time left before the end of the day, I had decided to take a quick look at Spirit’s nest just to see if he had any problems and, making sure I never went inside his territory, I looked inside the nest and watched carefully if the two chicks had any obvious injuries or if they looked like they didn’t have enough food.  
Wait…  
Two?!  
There’s supposed to be _three_ chicks! Not two!

I couldn’t think straight.  
I made a sharp turn, flew as fast as I could toward Spirit’s nest and landed there with no regards whatsoever toward efficiency or safety. A small, almost invisible, part of me knew it was a bad idea. It knew that being in this nest would get me attacked. It knew there were two eyases in the nest. It knew peregrine falcons were extremely territorials when eyases were involved. It knew I would get attacked.  
But I didn’t care.  
All I cared about was that Antoine, the missing one, was most probably dead because of me. I should have protected him. I should have helped him and prevented him from dying.  
I looked around the nest and tried to find out what had killed Antoine, just in case it might help me protect Beatrice and Colin. Barely a few seconds later, I heard Spirit land in the nest. I knew I was dead. Not only was I in his nest but I also was less than 30 centimeters away from his chicks. I knew he would attack me and, since he had way more experience than me, win the combat.

I gave up.  
I wasn’t made for this world. I wasn’t made for a falcon life. Despite everything I wanted to think, I was a human.  
I closed my eyes and waited for Spirit to attack me. I wouldn’t fight back. I wouldn’t take the risk to hurt him in a fight I could only lose. I was in his nest. I was in fault. For several seconds, I stood like that without moving and waited for the attack. I was prepared for the obvious outcome.  
Yet, it didn’t happen.  
Puzzled, I opened my eyes to see why he hadn’t attacked me.  
Spirit was feeding the two little birds in front of me and didn’t seem concerned at all by me nor He wasn’t showing any signs of aggressiveness whatsoever. It was like if he considered it normal for me to be in his nest.  
The more I thought about the current situation, the more I felt like it was perfectly normal. I felt like I belonged here and that my purpose was to take care of the eyases with Spirit.  
Rationally, I knew I was supposed to find it strange; I knew this wasn’t normal. I just didn’t care at all. It was nearly the opposite: I was happy to feel that way and to see that Spirit accepted me in his nest.  
It meant I could still help the young birds and give them the best protection I could ever give them.

I looked around the nest, again, to see if I could find any clues about what happened to Antoine. It was obvious his death wasn’t “natural”.  
Ten seconds later, I understood.  
It was the owl.  
The owl I had seen last night had killed Antoine. The dead bird I had seen in the owl’s claws wasn’t just a bird like the others. The dead bird I had seen was Antoine, the first eyas to get out of the egg.  
I flew out of the nest with one goal in mind. I wanted to find where the owl lived. I already had an (approximate) idea of where his territory was but I didn’t know where his nest was. I had to find it so I could kill him as soon as the opportunity would come.  
Every second he was still around was a second during which Beatrice and Colin were in danger,  
I simply couldn’t allow that.

When I passed above my nest, I noticed two cops and my former landowner in front of the broken window of my (ex) apartment. The landowner was visibly angry, probably because someone had broken the window of my apartment, while the two cops were holding a piece of plywood and some duct-tape.  
I immediately turned toward them. I knew they were planning to put the plywood over the window and that, when they would finish, I wouldn’t be able to return in there anymore. I had one last opportunity to look at my “apartment”.

I landed on a nearby tree and looked inside.  
It had been ransacked.  
Everything except the furniture had been stolen and every single drawer was lying on the floor.  
There was nearly nothing left in there. My books were missing, my computer was stolen and my clothes were nowhere to be seen. Even my stoves and my utensils had been stolen.  
My whole human life had been stolen; all I had left was my falcon life.

I looked at what used to be my apartment until the plywood was fully installed. At that point, I knew my human life was definitively over. I could no longer make quick dives into my old life to look at some information about my new life  
Starting now, my whole life was a falcon life and it would stay like that forever.  
Even if I had chosen to be a falcon a few days ago, I was still saddened by this. It felt if like the human world rejected me because I wasn’t human enough for them. It felt like if they didn’t want me in their world anymore.

I took off and headed toward Spirit’s nest. I knew he would accept me there.  
Even if he probably wasn’t aware of the concept of friendship, I felt like he was a friend. I felt like he was the only friend I could have in this new world. I felt like he was the only person in this world who would actually help me if I needed it.  
He was a friend in a world where friendship didn’t exist.

I didn’t know what I would do for the rest of my life but I did know what would occupy the next two months and a half.  
I would help Spirit raise Beatrice and Colin.  
When both of them would quit the nest and do whatever young falcons do after quitting the nest, I would make plans for the rest of my life.  
In the meantime, Beatrice and Colin were my priority.


	13. but welcomed in his other world

I was searching yet another bird to give to the eyases. It would be the second one of the day and certainly not the last one; those birdies ate a _lot_ of meat. They ate so much, in fact, that hunting was almost the only thing I did during the day. Whichever free time I managed to find was spent planning vaguely how I could kill the owl that had murdered Antoine. Each time I thought about that bastard – that I had named Jacques - and what he had done, I felt an indescribable rage and an inextinguishable desire for revenge. I wanted to find him, engage him and fight to the death.  
  
As I flew pass a building, I briefly saw myself on the window’s reflection and noticed something that could possibly explain why Spirit wasn’t aggressive toward me. I needed a better look at myself to see if I was right or not. I turned and headed toward a small shoes shop that had a section placed outside the store during the summer and landed in front of one of the mirrors they had placed on the ground. I looked at myself and, contrary to last time, I didn’t felt strange or anything. It was the exact opposite, actually: I felt normal. I didn’t felt like I was looking at something I shouldn’t be; I felt like I was looking at what I really was: a peregrine falcon. I was quite happy to realize I was feeling this; it proved I had fully accepted what I was.  
Growing wary about the small crowd gathering around me to see that weird falcon watching his reflection, I took off and headed back to Spirit’s territory.  
I had seen myself long enough to confirm the hypothesis I had made not long ago. Spirit and I had an identical body just like if we were twins. We were so much alike that even his mate, if he had one, could confuse one of us for the other. I knew it was probably unrelated to Spirit’s behavior toward me, but I liked the idea that he accepted me in his nest because I looked exactly like him and/or because he appreciated some help.

Soon after reaching an altitude of roughly 200 meters, I spotted a bird underneath me. It wasn’t really big - about the size of a blackbird – and I wasn’t really high above him, but it would do; pigeons weren’t really present in the sky today, for some reasons.  
After plotting a dive solution, I decided to use a method I had seen this morning by observing Spirit hunt. Normally, I would immediately fold my wings in their “stoop position” and go for the kill. This time, however, it would be a little different. Since I didn’t have enough altitude to use the method I always used and that I wanted to hunt the “right” way, I started to flap my wings as fast as I could to have a better acceleration. After a few seconds, when I was too fast to gain any speed by flapping, I carefully folded my wings and dove toward the bird just like I always did. Unfortunately, the bird had already seen me and, without surprise, managed to avoid me at the last moment. It wasn’t over, thought. Far from it. I still had a chance if I acted fast enough.  
I pulled up and, thanks to my speed, quickly caught up with the bird. I was now at his six O’clock, slightly below him, and approaching fast. When I was under him, I started a (tight) looping and caught the bird while I was still turning. He was dead before he could even attempt to escape. I looked around to see where I was and turned back to Spirit’s nest.

As soon as I landed next to Spirit, I heard the eyases chirp. I didn’t need to see them or to know the context to understand they were asking for the food and were not, for example, alerting me of a threat. They could have talked to me in plain English and they wouldn’t have been clearer. I gave a quick look at Spirit, who was guarding the nest, and began to pluck the bird I had hunted.  
I was glad neither the eyases nor Spirit regarded me as a threat. Not because it meant I didn’t risk being attacked, but because it felt like Spirit was my friend. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone in this world. He was the “social support” I desperately needed.

When there was nothing edible anymore on the bird, I pushed the corpse out of the nest and prepared myself to do some more hunting.  
Soon after taking off, I realized I now had the opportunity to continue my investigation, assuming whatever I was doing could count as an investigation. Unlike before, I was now accepted in Spirit’s territory, which meant that the construction site was now accessible to me. On a whim, I took a sharp turn and landed in front of the hole where I had met my new friend. I then walked toward the “bed” I had made almost two weeks ago and was immediately filled with memories. I remembered how I had been chased by a gillette and how I quickly turned paranoid. I remembered how I decided to disguise and sleep in this place. I remembered how, just as I was about to lie on the bed, I had heard Spirit. I remembered how I decided to go check upon him at the garden and how I slowly turned into what I was today. This construction site was where it had all started.   
After passing a minute looking at the bed and recalling memories of my previous life, I turned around and saw the blue cube that used to block the view in the hole. Despite the distance that separated us, I could see something I hadn’t noticed when I had inspected the area as a human. I walked toward the box to take a closer look at it.  
The sky-blue box, nearly too big for me to carry, had some sort of strange and foreign, scribbling on some of its sides as if they were giving some basic instructions or some safety information.  
I suddenly heard the noise of footsteps behind me. Whatever was running toward me was making no effort in being stealthy. I looked behind me to see what was coming after me and, while I was expecting a predator, I saw a young child running toward me. Obviously, he wanted to shoo me away for his amusement. Without even thinking about it, I grabbed the cube with my claws and flew back to Spirit’s nest where I pushed my recently found “evidence” in the left corner of the nest.

I then walked to the opening of our nest and stopped. I just hoped Spirit would understand I wanted him to hunt.  
I simply wasn’t in the mood for some hunting, anymore. I wanted to stay with the eyases and the falcon world. I had being driven off by a child just after I had a perfect occasion to continue my investigation. I felt like everything I did in the human world always ended up in me being driven off in some way.  
Unfortunately, either Spirit didn’t take the hint or either he wanted me to hunt. I took off and, hoping I would be lucky enough to see a pigeon, turned toward my territory.  
Then, I noticed a familiar competitor. Specifically, it was the same red-tailed hawk I had seen yesterday and he was soaring a few hundreds meter from my nest. I knew he had been a real hawk since its birth so he had no excuses to be there. Being that deep in someone else’s territory could only be a deliberate action. I had no idea why he was doing that – he already had a better place to live – but he clearly wanted to invade _my_ territory.  
As a falcon, I couldn’t let that pass. If I did, he would take more and more of my turf and, and the end, force me to find a new place.  
This would be the first time we would “meet” so there would be no fighting. It would only be some show of force and a few mock attacks. Hopefully.  
I gained some altitude and slowly approached the hawk. Even if it would only be “bluff”, I wanted to have the height advantage; just in case it wouldn’t be just “bluff”. When I reached the same altitude, I turned toward him and flew straight forward without changing my speed. My goal was that the hawk knew he was in my territory but not to start a fight – if I flew too fast he might think I wanted to attack him. I was quite confident in my ability to win an eventual fight but, since I had no experience in air combat, I didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks, especially since losing a combat meant that I might not be able to protect Spirit and the eyases from the owl.

Fortunately, when I was around half a kilometer from him the red-tailed hawk started to fly out of my territory; I didn’t care where he was going as long as it was outside both Spirit’s territory and mine.  
Even when he had left our territories, I wasn’t quite finished. I still had to show where were the boundaries of my place of living and make it sure that he wouldn’t come back.  
I continued the slow “chase” for a few tens of second after both of us had exited my propriety and, when I was sure he wouldn’t try again, turned back to my territory and searched for pigeons. I knew there was other preys I could probably catch more easily but I didn’t have the time for them: the day would end soon and I could only catch two or three birds at best before the night would fall and make hunting impossible; with such a small number of bird I could bring back to the nest, pigeons were the only birds that had enough meat to feed everyone. It went without saying, for me, that if I had to choose between feeding Spirit and I or feeding the two chicks, I would feed the last two. Spirit and I could easily live without eating for a day but I seriously doubted it was the same for the two fragile baby falcons.

After two hours, and countless missed attempts to catch something, I grew desperate and decided to do something risky. I knew I wouldn’t catch any prey today in my territory or in Spirit’s territory. The only way I could bring food back to the nest would be by hunting outside our territories.  
In itself, hunting outside my territory wasn’t _that_ dangerous. As long as avoided other territories, I wouldn’t be seen as invading and, thus, wouldn’t be attacked. However, the nearest place with enough pigeons to hunt was a small park so close to Jacques’ territory that it might be in his property: I wasn’t really sure where the borders were.  
But, to be honest, I didn’t really cared about that. In my opinion, he didn’t deserve to have its territory recognized and if he attacked, it would give me the opportunity to finish him once and for all.

When I got there, I was able to spot a small flock of pigeons in a clear area of the park. I knew I was, in theory, capable of attacking a ground target – especially pigeons since they would try to fly away and make themselves an easy air target – but I still didn’t possess a lot of experience in that kind of hunting.  
Still, I didn’t have much choice. If I didn’t kill one soon, the eyases would go hungry. Just like I had done when I broke into my old house, I planned what I needed to do. I couldn’t dive now since my trajectory would be too steep for me to catch a pigeon when it would try to fly away; I had to take some distance. Then, I would need to find the right speed for the attack: if I went too slow, the pigeons would elude me but if I went too fast, I wouldn’t be able to change my direction fast enough to get one. Following that, it would be like all the other kills I had done.  
My plan was done; all I had to do was to execute it. I accelerated a little and flew straight toward Jacques’ border. By that point, I was probably inside but, meh, who cared about that bird anyway? Once I was far enough, I turned back and…  
Wait, is that…?  
No, it couldn’t. Why would Jacques decide to hunt at such an early time? He wasn’t a diurnal predator!  
Moments later, I understood why. It was obvious. He wasn’t hunting. He was protecting his territory. He wanted to chase me away. Good. I knew I could easily create a fight by not going away.

I knew it wasn’t a good idea. I knew I should go away and only come back when I would have more experience. But I didn’t do that. That bastard had murdered Antoine. He would pay for that. He would die for what he had done and he would never be a threat to anyone again.  
I dove down toward the pigeons for about 50 meters and screeched repeatedly at him. I was basically showing him that I perfectly knew I was in his territory and, by diving, I was sending the message that I planned to hunt; at least, that’s what I intended him to understand. I had no idea if the message passed, but I didn’t care at all. What I wanted him to do was to come and fight me. I wanted him to learn how good peregrines were when it went to aerial combat the hard way.

Soon after, we were both in the same thermal. Each of us was circling at two opposite side of the air current. We were not fighting yet. We were just circling in the same thermal at the same altitude. From time to time, one of us would faint an attack and the other would either avoid it or faint a counter-attack. We were just taunting each other and searching for a real opportunity to start the fight.  
Without warning, he suddenly turned toward me. I knew this attack was not a faint. I knew this was a real attempt. If I didn’t avoid it, he would _really_ try to hurt me instead of turning away at the last second.  
The real fight had started and it would only finish when one of us would die; I would either avenge Antoine and protect the nest or I would die in the attempt.

I waited until he flared up and raised his talons in front of him to attack me; I pulled up quickly and managed to avoid his attack easily. He had lost a lot of speed with his attack while I, the Spitfire of the avian world, had merely traded speed for altitude.  
I quickly banked upside down and prepared to dive. I knew I would dive in his blind spot. He would be slow and unable to see me. It would be an easy kill.  
I started the dive in itself, already rejoicing at the idea of killing Jacques, and folded my wings; usually, I would have folded them a little more but, for now, I wanted more maneuverability than speed.  
Unfortunately, as soon as he entered in my field of vision, I knew I had made a big mistake. When I thought he wouldn’t see me, I had assumed he had a field of vision similar to me - we were both raptors – but I had forgotten one thing: owls could rotate their head had a lot more than other raptors. He was literally looking at me in the eyes while I was right above him.  
Without surprise, he easily avoided me and I zoomed pass him. He now had the advantage of height and a better situation awareness than me. Before I went too low, I pulled up and leveled my flight; I lost a lot of speed in the process.  
I couldn’t stay in this situation any longer. He was in my blind spot and was probably diving toward me. I quickly banked right until I flew upside down and managed to get him in my field of vision again. He was way closer than I was expecting. He was, I guessed, one second away from impact. I knew I couldn’t turn fast enough to avoid him. I knew he would easily catch me if I tried to dive since he was too close to allow me to gain sufficient speed. All I had left was a maneuver he couldn’t expect in any way: going upward. Of course, negative g’s were harder to pull than positive g’s, but the surprise would, hopefully, make him miss me. I “pulled” down and instantly realized my mistake. Even if he was extremely close, he still had enough distance to correct his trajectory.

He hit me talons forward and, as I felt them enter my body, I screeched in pain. I knew I was done. He had me in his talons and there was no way I could escape. I would die during this combat. But, I thought, he would go down with me. I may die, but my death wouldn’t be in vain. I would lose the fight, but I would still protect the young falcons; it’s not like if I had any choice anyway. I grabbed his talons and, instead of trying to escape, folded my wings and tried to make it too hard for him to continue flying.  
Not long after I started this, he tried to let me go. I, however, didn’t let him do that. I held his talons as hard as I could and watched the ground come at us faster and faster. We would probably not die on the impact but, hopefully, the owl would break a wing, which, for a bird, meant death.  
When we crashed on the ground, I instinctively looked at myself to see if I was injured by the fall – as if it would change anything to my fate – and was relieved to see I was mostly intact. I stood up as quickly as I could and immediately looked around to see where Jacques was. When I finally found him – he was flying in the sky and returning to his nest – I understood I wouldn’t be able to catch up with him. He was too high and too far for me to be able to get anywhere near him with all the injuries I had.  
He had beaten me and successfully drove me out of his territory and he knew it. He knew I would die here on the ground.  
I spread out my wings, hoping I could go somewhere I could hide to heal my injuries, and dropped pathetically on the ground barely a second after my talons had left the ground.  
I was about to die. I hadn’t been able to protect Spirit, Beatrice and Colin. I wouldn’t be able to help them any longer. I had attacked Jacques on a whim and, because of that, I would die and put in danger the very birds I had sworn to protect.  
I had failed them.

I looked at my belly and saw that my feathers, once arranged in a nice black and white pattern, were now soaked in blood. My blood.  
Now that I was about to die, I wasn’t really sure if I would die as a peregrine falcon or as a human anymore. I wanted to know that before dying. I wanted to be sure of my identity before I died so I could die in peace.  
I thought of all that had happened since I had been transformed.

I remembered the slaughter, caused by a human, I had seen near the lake and how another human had tired to shoot me down on my way back. I remembered how I had been prevented from going inside my own house. I remembered how I had been shooed away from the construction site for the sole reason that I wasn’t a human. I remembered how some bunch of humans had gathered around me when I had looked at my reflection on a mirror and how they had watched me.  
I then remembered how Spirit hadn’t attacked me when he had returned from the rehab center. I remembered how he had accepted my help after Jacques had murdered Antoine. I remembered how none of the baby falcons had shown any sign of alarm. I remembered how welcomed I felt in their nest.

I closed my eyes and came to the obvious conclusion.  
While the human world had basically made every effort to kick me out of their world and had constantly been aggressive toward me, the falcon world had welcomed me with open “arms”; the world I was now living in had only attacked me when it had legitimate reasons to do so and had never tried to kick me out of it.

I was filled with a strange sensation of calm. If I still had that soft mouth I used to have, I would have smiled. I felt like all the problems I ever had in my lives had been solved; my only regret was that I would never be there to see Beatrice and Colin take their first flight or make their first kill.  
I just hoped Spirit would be able to protect them from Jacques.

Just like I did, less than two weeks before, when I was on the floor of my ex-apartment, I felt extremely tired.  
I took one last breath and fell asleep.  
I would die as a peregrine falcon.


	14. Claustrophobia

I was jolted awake by two hands picking me up.  
I opened my eyes and, in a state of total confusion, looked around to see what was happening.  
It was a human. It was holding me in his hands. A predator. Danger.  
I opened my wings and tried to push myself out of its grip to get out of this dangerous situation, but I was too weak. I could barely lift my head and I doubted I could stand up even if I was on the ground.

“Calm down.” the human said as it placed a hand on my back “Everything will be fine.”

I folded back my wings. The human was reassuring, somehow. Its voice and the way he held me made me feel safe. It wasn’t the kind of human that shot me down for amusement. It was the kind of human that would try to help me. It was a friendly human.  
Anyway, I closed my eyes again. I knew I couldn’t stay alive until we reached a place where the human could help me and I just wanted to die in peace.

“No. Don’t fall asleep.” The human said shortly after giving me a small slap.

I didn’t like the human anymore. Why couldn’t it let me die in peace? I knew he just wanted to help me but I wanted to die in peace without being constantly bothered.  
I closed my eyes again. The human slapped me again but, this time, I didn’t open my eyes. I was too tired for that. My body was slowly shutting down as my blood slowly flowed out of my body.  
The human slapped me again; harder, this time. I kept my eyes closed; maybe the human would understand and let me sleep if I showed him I didn’t want to open my eyes?

“DAD!”

Great. Now the human was shouting.  
What if I asked the human to stop? Maybe he would listen?  
I tried to ask him in English – the human language he was likely to speak – but I only managed to make a weak screech.

Moments later, I heard the sound of a car engine starting and felt a slight nudge as the car moved forward. Then, I finally managed to get some sleep.

* * *

 

Thought I was still groggy because of whatever drug the human had probably given me, I woke up fully rested.  
I had a bandage where Jacques had clawed me, obviously put there by the human while I was sleeping, and there were a few pieces of meat in my… cage? I quickly stood up and inspected the cage. It was too small… too enclosed. It had no way out and I had to find one now!  
I jumped at what looked like the door, bit it and tried to open it with no success. I then bit a bar of the cage and did the same operation, hoping it would break. I then tried with another bar. And another. And another. And another one. I only stopped when I had tried to break every single bars of the cage.  
I wondered if, by chance, I could find a way to squeeze my way out and pass between the bars but I quickly realized the awful truth: I was trapped. All I could do was to bid my time and wait for my injuries to heal. Only then I would only be able to escape this oppressive cage.  
I took a few deep breaths to calm myself a little – which only made me very nervous instead of panicked - and looked where I was.

I was in the rehab center and, probably, in the same cage Spirit had been kept in when he was healed; It was reassuring to know that whoever had imprisoned me wanted to heal me and that he would release me when I would be good to go. Of course, the cage was still too small not to be nervous, but I knew I wasn’t in danger and that all I had to do was to wait.  
It was poetic, in a way. About two weeks ago, I had paid a visit to Spirit and even gave him a rat to eat while he was in the very cage I was in. It felt like I was completing some kind of circle between Spirit and me.

I ruffled my feathers and slowly spread my wings. I could barely open them completely without touching the side of the cage and, unsurprisingly, it did nothing to calm me. I needed open space to fly and this prison wasn’t even big enough to walk around without hitting a wall after a few steps. I folded my wings and walked – aka: made a few steps – toward the door and tried to fit my head between the bar to see if I could at least have a look at an eventual piece of paper with some information about my health on it.  
Eventually, even if the space between the bars was too small to fit my head in them, I managed to put myself in a position that allowed me to see a plastic card they apparently used to note the most important elements of my stay. Unfortunately, all I could see was that I had an X-ray scan, some internal injuries and that I would stay in observation for at least one week. I couldn’t believe it. I had barely become a falcon and, already, I had to sit in a tiny cage and do nothing apart waiting. Whoever had put me here should have chained me to the ground instead of locking me up. I would still be unable to fly but, at least, I would be able to extend my wings without problems. I couldn’t really complain, thought. After all, I was receiving a completely free healthcare even if I had no insurance whatsoever.

After one hour of “walking” around and cursing the size of my prison, I heard the barn’s door open and instantly turned my head to look at it. Someone entered the barn and seemed to open a few boxes to take some bandages along with what looked like rats before walking toward me; obviously, I was about to receive some treatments and rats for diner. Yay.  
When he arrived in front of my prison, he gave a quick look at the plastic card and placed the bandage and the food next to my cage. He then slowly approached his hand and unlocked the door before slowly opening it. For a short moment, I contemplated the idea of rushing outside and flying back to Spirit’s nest but immediately realized that I would be caught before I could even get out of the cage. The veterinary – that I recognized to be the same one who had invited me to feed Spirit – then placed his hand in the cage. I immediately backed off. I knew he was trying to heal me and posed no threat whatsoever but I was a bird stuck in a tiny cage with a potential predator trying to grab me. Unfortunately, my tail quickly hit the opposite side of the cage; I had forgotten how tiny this prison was.  
Resigned, I stayed where I was and let him grab me – I still had enough dignity not to walk toward him and beg for help. He then slowly pulled me out of the cage and began to change my bandages. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience of my lives – both of them – but being out of the cage was worth every seconds of it.  
Unfortunately, it didn’t last long. He only took a few minutes to remove the old bandage, disinfect the wound and put a new bandage; after being put in the cage again, I received the two rats he had taken earlier. It was humiliating. Here I was, in a tiny cage, being fed two rats as if I was some clumsy bird unable to hunt by myself. Reluctantly, I moved toward the two rats and started to eat. Although a nice fat pigeon would have been a lot better, I had to admit that the rat tasted quite good.

After that, each day followed the same exact routine. The veterinary would come each day to replace the bandage, inspect the wound and give me some food while I was worrying about two young peregrines out there.  
It was the most boring period of my life. Of course, I was used to staying at the same place and wait for a long time - I often spent hours in my nest doing nothing else than watching the sky to spot potential prey – but this was different. When I was perching in my nest, I had something to do. Right now, the most exciting thing to do was watching injured animals and some horses. I didn’t even bothered to keep track of the date anymore. It seemed too irrelevant and useless now.

One day, an eternity after the first one, I “walked” to the center of the cage and spread my wings. I knew I wouldn’t be able to move them a lot but I still wanted to be sure I could fly correctly when I would be free again. I hadn’t bothered to keep track of the date so, as far as I knew, it was possible that I have already stayed more than a week.  
I slowly moved them upward, as if I was preparing myself to flap them, and expected to feel pain at some point because of my injuries; to my surprise, I didn’t felt anything. My wings would be ready as soon as I would be released.  
A few moments later, I saw a movement at the entrance of the barn and quickly folded back my wings. I didn’t want anyone to discover I was acting in a non-falcon way. Not when I was still in this cage. For all I knew they could think I was acting weird because of some head trauma and have the “bright” idea of keeping me here a little longer. I looked at the human - I was uncomfortable not to have a visual contact with anything approaching me when I couldn’t escape - and noticed it wasn’t the usual one. She was a lot younger – probably a teenager – and looked like the human who had found me in the park. Once she arrived in front of my cage, three other teenagers – two boys and one girl - entered in the barn at the same time only to be followed by a red-tailed hawk a few seconds later.  
I instantly recognized him. It was the hawk I had spotted in my territory before. The weird one. There were no doubts in my mind anymore. The hawk might not be a human transformed into a hawk, but there definitively was something suspicious with him.  
When the girl opened the door of my cage, I realized I had been watching the hawk for too long and quickly changed my focus to the girl about to heal me. I didn’t want them to know I wasn’t a “pure” falcon. Without warning, the girl turned toward the hawk as if she had heard him say something.

“It won’t be released until my father come back.” The same girl said while one of the teenagers, a boy, chuckled.  
Now, I could be sure, rationally, there was something weird about the hawk. The way the girl had talked to him looked like if she was expecting the hawk to fully understand her.  
But I didn’t care. According to her, I would be free as soon as her father – which I guessed to be the man who had taken care of me before – would be here. I would be with my friend and his eyases before the end of the day. Nothing else mattered.

After removing my bandages, the girl sat near the others and the four teens started to chat about some kind of mission they had to do. I couldn’t understand everything because an eagle next to me decided to create a tantrum every time I look at him but I heard enough of the conversation to understand that the main objective was to infiltrate the headquarters of the Sharing to get some intel about the extent of the infestation and, at the same time, try to learn the names of other “controllers”. At some point of the discussion, one of the teens – a blond girl – said that she wanted to “kick some yeerk’s butts” but was almost instantly calmed down by the boy who was obviously their leader as he said that the controllers were not the enemy but that “the yeerk inside their head was”. Somehow, I sensed that the whole thing was related to what had happened to me but I was too excited to think about it. I would have all the time I want inside a nice thermal while flying more than a kilometer above the ground.

After the short “mission planning”, they all left while I was hit by a powerful sentiment of jealousy and regret. Even if I didn’t miss my human body anymore but I still missed being able to have a real discussion. Right now, the closest thing to a conversation I had was when Spirit shrieked at me for some various reasons – telling me to brood the chicks a little for example - but, even then, it was only a one-way dialogue since I didn’t know how to answer. With some time, hopefully, I would learn how to use the basic “peregrine falcon’s” language and manage to “answer” him.  
At least, now that I was sure that something was up with the red-tailed hawk, I knew with whom I would try to communicate first. Since we were in the same situation, he was, probably, the more likely to accept the possibility of a talking falcon or, at least, to attract the attention of someone who would.

When I was sure they wouldn’t come back, I walked to the center of the cage and tried to stretch my wings as much as I could in this tiny space. I was barely able to hide my excitement. Just a few hours and I would be up in the sky again.  
Sadly, the same excitement made the time pass a lot slower. After what felt like days, I finally saw the familiar figure of the veterinary walking toward me. I waited until he was in front of the cage to finally stand up. I didn’t want him to think I was acting weird and conclude that my brain was damaged and that I needed more time to recover. After opening the cage, he gently tossed a rat in the cage before closing it again; obviously, he didn’t want me to leave with an empty stomach.  
Soon after I had eaten it, he opened the cage another time and began the inspection. After some time, he seemingly decided that I was well enough to be released and casually walked toward the barn’s exit while holding the cage I was in. I couldn’t contain myself. In a few minutes, top, I would be flying again. I would finally be able to feel the wind on my wings and eat a few delicious fresh pigeons instead of the rats I had to eat for the last days.  
Once we were outside the barn, he placed the cage on the ground and quickly opened the door wide open. I didn’t hesitate. I shot out of the cage like a missile and quickly took some altitude. It felt so good to fly again and to finally get high above the ground. If it was just for me, I would spend the rest of the day (and possibly most of the night) flying around aimlessly and enjoy how I was able to fully extend my wings again, but there was two chicks I had to take care of.

I flew as fast as I could and headed straight for the nest. I didn’t care if I would be quickly exhausted; I was flying and feeling the wind in my wings, nothing else mattered. I was where I really belonged: in the air.  
As soon as I was close enough to see the nest clearly, I slowed down and made a slight turn. I didn’t want Spirit to think I was threatening the nest and attack me. Not even a minute afterward – I was still fast even when I flew “slowly” -, I landed next to Spirit, who was feeding Beatrice. I was taken aback by how much the eyases had changed. They were able walk around the nest and I could even see a few flight feathers growing on them.  
I gently lie down and, for the first time since a long time, I managed to relax. Even if, rationally, I knew that a predator could easily attack me, I felt perfectly safe. I was at home, safe.

Not long after Spirit had thrown the finished prey out of the nest, he asked me to hunt.  
I was still unable to understand which tonality or pattern in a given call was different from any other call he made but, for me, it was obvious that he had asked me to hunt. I didn’t have the slightest trace of a doubt. It was as obvious as if he had asked it in English.  
I happily flew out of the nest and started to look for a pigeon I could catch. I was so happy to be finally able to fly again and get the food by myself. Even if I had been fed decently during my treatment, the taste of a cold rat was nowhere near the taste of a fresh pigeon.


	15. Chapter 15

I increased my wingspan, hunched my shoulders and tried to fluff up my feathers as much as I could despite the wind. I knew I wouldn’t impress anyone, but I was still making myself look bigger than I really was just so everyone could understand I wouldn’t hesitate to fight if I had to.  
I was flying in the vicinity of Jacques’ territory and, even if I couldn’t see him, I knew he was watching me. No bird of prey worthy of the name would miss a potential competitor flying at the edge of their territory. That suited me. My goal was to be seen. I wanted Jacque to know I was back into business and that trying to attack the nest for a second time was suicide.  
A big part of me wanted to try a second attack but, even if I still wanted him dead, I was also afraid of him. I knew that I didn’t have enough experience to win a fight with him – not yet, at least – and that getting killed wouldn’t help anyone. I didn’t care much, thought. Jacque would only start to be a real danger when Beatrice and Colin would learn to fly. In the meantime, if he wanted to get anywhere near the nest, he would have to pass trough the defense of two peregrines attacking him at once and he was smart enough to know that he didn’t stood any chances at all.  
After a good hour of flying around, I decided I had been there long enough for the message to pass and headed toward Spirit’s nest.

Along the way, I started to think about how I could successfully attack him. Of course, when I would do that, I wouldn’t do the mistake of underestimating his situation awareness capacity a second time; that mistake had made me lose the previous combat and, as a result, I was put in a tiny cage for an eternity. As surprising as it may seem, I wasn’t really keen on repeating the experience. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a lot of advantages over him. He had a much better situation awareness than me, outclassed me in term of weight, had claws that basically put mine to shame and he was perfectly silent – which meant that if I lost visual contact, I wouldn’t be able to hear where he was. The only thing I outclassed him with was speed and maneuverability; even then, I wasn’t really sure if I really had a better maneuverability than him.

No, wait. That wasn’t true. I also had the mind of a human. I had the knowledge of several decades of studies over aerial combat, I had the ability to prepare my attack several days in advance and I had the patience to wait until I was ready to attack him. I had the power to find the best way to use my advantages. Plus, I was a predator that often hunted at dawn and he was a predator that hunted at night; if I attacked at dawn, I would be fresh and full of energy while he would be tired by a whole night of hunting.  
By the time I had devised a (very) basic plan – that is, wait for a hot day and, at dawn, use both my altitude and speed to attack - I was already with the two young’s in the nest.  
I wasn’t sure what to do. With today’s strong winds, practicing combat tactics was out of the question - it could only result in creating bad habits - so I was left with two choices. I could either go hunt some pigeons or try to make sense of whatever the children’s were talking about yesterday, when I was still in the cage. Sadly, I couldn’t take the easy option of doing both of them at the same time; at least, not without performing poorly in both activities.

After roughly ten seconds, I opted for the second option. Spirit could easily take care of the food and, if I wanted to protect the eyases, I had to think for the long term; for all I knew, the aliens the kids were talking about would predate on falcons as soon as their invasion was complete.  
I took off and, using one thermal after the other, slowly rose above the ground until I could no longer get higher. I was so high that I couldn’t hear any sounds except my own. No cars, no birds chirping, no dogs barking, no voices, no nothing. Just my wings flapping and the air rushing on my face. It was the perfect conditions to think without being disturbed.  
Curious to see what Spirit was doing, I started to look around and, sooner than I would have expected, spotted him stalking a group of pigeons perching on a bus shelter. I instantly knew it would be an easy kill for him. If he performed his stoop correctly, the pigeons wouldn’t have the time to gain any altitude and would be forced to go into an alley in front of their perch. At that point, the only way they could escape their fate would be to outpace a peregrine falcon as he emerged from a stoop. After watching Spirit’s performance (which was successful, by the way), I tried to focus on the few clues I had.

All I knew for sure was that four children’s, and possibly a bird, wanted to spy on the Sharing to get more information about the extent of the infestation and learn the names of new controllers (whatever that was), that they were fighting “yeerks” and that they did not considered the “controllers” as their enemies.   
Obviously, “controller” referred to humans. The gillettes were an obvious enemy (otherwise they wouldn’t have attacked me on sight) and there would be no point in infiltrating the Sharing if the organization had nothing to do with the infestation. It was probably why the Sharing was recruiting new members so aggressively: if the invasion was about using an organization to infest a large number of persons without being noticed, an recruitment would be a good way to quickly complete the invasion.

Now, I only had to find out what a “yeerk” was and why they would be inside the head of someone. Fortunately, this part was pretty easy to find out: they were the parasite. Since a gillette was way too big to fit into someone’s head, a yeerk could only be the name of whichever parasite the invading alien (the gillettes, maybe?) wanted to spread on earth; the reason why the yeerks would get into people’s head could simply be that their biology required them to do so. I guess that the reason I had been attacked in the wood a long time ago was simply because I had been unfortunate enough to see the invader and that they wanted no witnesses.  
Reaching these conclusions removed a heavy weight from my shoulders. For the first time since the fatidic walk, I had been able to understand something about me. Of course, I still didn’t know how and why I had been transformed into a falcon, but I didn’t really care about that. I knew I would never be able to completely understand it; there was no need to stress over it.  
With that welcomed sensation of relief, I decided to start hunting. I was getting hungry and, probably, so was the young peregrines.

Once I got back home, with a dead bird tightly held in my claws, I looked at the two eyases coming toward me and I was shocked by how the two small birds had changed. I had already seen them yesterday, of course, but I had been too excited by my regained liberty to _really_ see the changes.  
I could still remember the time where they had hatched, back when I was still eating bacon instead of birds. They were, at the time, so young that they kept their eyes closed and barely moved at all. All they had on them was a light coat of a fluffy white down to protect them and they needed to be brooded constantly.  
Now, they were walking around the nest and even had a few flight feathers already visible. It was just a matter of weeks before all of them would enjoy their first flight.  
All of them except one. Antoine.

Antoine would never fly. He would never feel the wind flowing on his wings as he flew in the territory he owned. He would never feel the pleasure to soar in a thermal and dive at an incredibly fast speed or have the satisfaction of bringing back a tasty pigeon back to the nest he possessed.  
I had vowed to protect him only to fail him five days later. While he was meant to fly high in the sky, he had barely lived long enough to see the nest he lived in. He hadn’t lived long enough to know what being a bird meant because I wasn’t there to protect him when an owl decided to take away his right to be a bird.  
I had no rights to put the two birds in front of me in danger for something that could wait until they were old enough to set their own territory. Even if I would still follow the only lead I had - to be sure the aliens didn’t put anyone in danger - I would only do so if I could do it without endangering anyone.

Once the two eyases had been fed, I got rid of the prey’s body and lay down next to the strange blue cube I had found; I wasn’t in the mood for flying anymore. For now, I just wanted to relax for a bit and think about how I could invest without endangering anyone.  
Fortunately, that part was quickly solved: I was a falcon. All I needed to do was to perch somewhere close to what I wanted to spy on and my hearing would allow me to hear everything without even looking directly at my “target”. Moreover, since my eyesight was better on the sides, I would have a better view when NOT facing at whatever I wanted to look at. The best thing was that, even if I were seen, no one would ever suspect a _bird_ to spy on anyone, let alone understand what was said.  
I knew the Sharing regularly held activities at the beach and that, sometime, they even arranged a “closers only” gathering at the same place. Even if having such a meeting outside was allowing them to easily spot any humans trying to spy on them, the fact that they were outside made it _very_ easy for me to listen everything they said. As soon as they would meet again, I would be there to listen and learn everything I could about the invasion.

After Spirit landed in the nest, roughly half an hour after, I took off and headed for the headquarters of the Sharing. Once there, I landed on the building in front of it and looked at everyone passing in front of it. I stayed there for a long time without having any feeling of boredom whatsoever. It was exactly like perching in the nest and waiting for an unfortunate bird to pass by except, in this case, I was waiting for clues about an invasion.  
 _If_ there was an invasion.  
Now that I was thinking about it, the kids never mentioned any invasion of any sort and, even if there was one, how could I be sure that they were on the “good” side? For all I knew, _they_ were the one organizing the yeerk infestation while the gillettes were merely trying to defend the earth. It was possible that I was only attacked because the gillette thought I was with the kids when he saw that the weird red-tailed hawk was nearby.  
Yet, they were kids. I was quite convinced they weren’t on the attacking side (if there was one) but I didn’t want to bet my life – or the lives of Beatrice, Colin and Spirit – on me being right about this. Just to be safe, I would make sure not to be spotted by anyone during my spying activities. I wouldn’t spy on the Sharing anymore. It was too risky for the amount of information I could get. The small group of children’s was easier and less dangerous to spy on and they were far more interesting because of the strange hawk that seemed to “talk” with them.

I took off from the balcony, attracting a few curious look from some passerby, and entered into a thermal to gain some altitude. As I reached a sufficient altitude to hunt, I turned toward where Spirit had made his last kill and, while I was expecting to see a small group of pigeon, I noticed that Spirit was chasing a pigeon. Well, not exactly. He wasn’t really trying to catch it. He was just tiring it and leading it to me; I was supposed to do the killing portion of the hunt. I waited until the pigeon was closer to suddenly turn toward him before beating my wings as fast as I could; I could almost see his surprise as he turned and desperately made a vain attempt at escaping us. When I passed above the pigeon, I turned upside down and instead of making a regular dive, I opted for a split-S just for the fun of it.  
I quickly ended up behind - and slightly below - the pigeon and, with my speed, almost instantly caught up with him. Once I was in the right position, I pulled up, caught him in the middle of a loop and put an end to his life with a good blow on his neck.

I only realized how selfish I had been so far at the end of the day, when we were all fed and present in the nest.  
Spirit and I had hunted together and he had trusted me enough to do the killing part. Then, he had trusted me enough to bring the kill back to the nest and feed the two vulnerable eyases. In numerous occasions, he had even trusted me enough to leave me alone with them.  
He gave me as much trust as he would have given to a mate. Spirit had accepted me as if I was part of his family and had given me a purpose to my current life. When I was in the direst need of social support, Spirit had gave me more than his friendship: he had given me a role in his family; it was almost like if he had adopted me.  
And, to thank him, I was taking unnecessary risks without legitimate reasons. When I thought about it, the main reason I had decided to spy on the Sharing was not because of the alien “invasion” that was supposedly taking place; it was because I wanted to know what had happened to me. Instead of waiting until the eyases were grown up to learn something that wouldn’t change anything for me, I had acted selfishly and went on an useless “mission” while I should have helped those who had saved my life.  
Soon after this realization, I took the decision to stop any kind of investigation until both Beatrice and Colin would have left the nest; the only exception would be if not doing the investigation would put their lives at risk.  
It was the least I could do to repay them; anyway, even if I didn’t have to show my gratitude, I had no rights to put them in danger for something that didn’t concerned them.

I stood up and walked next to Spirit as he was perching at the edge of the nest.  
I wanted to talk to him and be completely understood by him. I wanted to apologize for what I had done earlier this day and promise him that I wouldn’t do it again. I wanted to explain why I had decided to spy on the Sharing and tell him how I ended up taking care of his eyases after waking up as a falcon. I wanted to explain why I hadn’t been there to protect Antoine and why I had fled the day he had returned to his nest.

I wanted him to know how much he had done for me - how he had kept me sane by giving me what I needed the most - and how thankful I was for that.


	16. The Evil and the Virtuous

My wish was granted shortly before the two young birds were completely covered in feathers and beating theirs wings in the nest; they weren’t able to fly yet but I knew they would soon separate themselves from the ground for a brief second when a strong gust would lift them up. I was realistic enough to know that, when they would start to fly outside the nest, we might not be able to reach them fast enough to defend them if they were attacked by Jacque and that, since they would barely have any flight hours, he would have no difficulties in killing them; that meant that I had to seriously think about how to get rid of that stupid owl before he could a shot at the young birds Spirit and I were taking care of. I knew such an attack would be risky and that I would have a significant chance to die, but it was something I had to do for the young falcons. They may not be my eyases in a strict definition, but I loved them as much and, to be honest, I often felt like if I had become part of Spirit’s family by some sort of reverse-adoption.

Hence, on a clear and sunny day, I decided I had enough experience to put on a fair fight and went on a reconnaissance mission over Jacque’s territory. I knew he would probably attack me during the mission but I had waited for a day with strong thermals so I could reach a decent altitude; I had no idea how high he could go but I knew that, if he decided to attack me, I would be able to spot him long before he could even reach my altitude.  
When I first entered in his territory, I was sure it would be an easy job to find him; I had a lot of experience in spotting birds, the terrain was well lit by the sun and, with my speed, I could cover a large area in a small amount of time. At worse, I thought, it would only take one or two hours to find him. In reality, it took me _at least_ four hours to find him: he was sleeping about 200 meters away from where we fought the last time. No wonder he had attacked me that day; I would have done the same if someone tried to hunt that close to my nest. I was genuinely surprised he hadn’t attacked me yet or that he wasn’t, at least, trying to make his presence known to me while I was literally soaring right above his nest; I guess that coward was hiding somewhere in his hollow and preferred to wait until I started hunting to act like a real bird of prey and defend his territory. Apparently, that coward wasn’t really willing to attack, now that he had a grown peregrine to face instead of a defenseless hatchling like Antoine.  
Anyway, now that I knew where he lived, I could start to think of my attack plan.

The “optimal” option would be to make an entry from the east to have the sun on my back but, unfortunately, doing this would mean traveling through his entire territory and losing whatever advantage of surprise I may have. The other option, coming from the west by passing over the park, would get me close to him quickly but, unfortunately, it meant attacking with the sun in my face. That would put me in a serious disadvantage, obviously, but it wouldn’t last long: 200 meters was something I could travel in less than 10 seconds.  
When the attack would begin, he would have the advantage of the terrain; he was used to hunt – and fly – in that part of the forest and there was no way I could use my speed to its full potential without crashing headfirst in a tree. The best combat area – for me, at least - would probably above the park where we fought last time: it was mostly clear so, even if the fight ended up in a low altitude, I could still go fast without having to worry about hitting a tree. Sadly, Jacque also knew that and he would try to keep the fight above the forest to make it harder for me to dive on him without kissing a tree while going faster than a car on a highway.  
Of course, the easiest way to attract him over the park would be to hunt there and wait for him to come willingly at me but it was too impractical and I would have to watch constantly around me - I wouldn’t even be able to hear him because of how silent he was – and I would be at a serious disadvantage when the fight would begin.  
Unless….  
I could try to force him to fly when he would be at his most vulnerable situation and attack him just as he was taking off... If I managed to do that, he would barely have the time to get any altitude before being attacked. If I managed to make him take off just as I passed over him, I could execute a split-S and kill him just as he would scramble to gain some altitude. Of course, it would mean attacking when facing the sun but that disadvantage would quickly disappear after I would perform my little stunt. I just had to find a way to… convince… him to get in the air. Ideally, whatever technique I would use would be something can that be done in the air at a precise moment; I needed a good timing if I wanted my plan to work correctly.

Of course. Why didn’t I think of it sooner?  
It was so simple and yet so efficient.  
All I had to do was to drop a rock near him. As a bird, I knew his first reflex would be to seek safety in the air. He would see me long before I would make the drop, of course, but the sound of the rock would make him fear that a ground predator was trying to eat him and, because birds are essentially helpless on the ground, he would try to seek safety in the sky. All I had to do now was to practice my “drops” until I could have a reasonable precision and make that I was able to quickly perform a split-S after the snap-back.  
I could already picture how it would happen.  
I would arrive from the east, flying at 100 meters above the ground, and holding a rock in my talons. At some point, I would open them and let the rock fall toward my target. The rock would probably miss him (unfortunately) but it would definitively create some chaos in the area that would scare Jacque into flying just as I would pass over him. One second later, I would roll over and quickly make a half-loop to gain speed and put myself at the good altitude. I would then catch up with him and go for the kill. Hopefully.  
I couldn’t help but feel a little dirty. Planning the whole thing gave me a huge advantage over him and part of me wondered if it dragged me down to his level. Also, despite the uncountable number of pigeon I had killed, it would be the first time I would kill another bird in cold blood by following a strategy planned several days before; I was afraid it would, at the very last moment, make me hesitate and miss the kill. If such a thing happened, I would have to fight a bird that had claws significantly larger than mine. Of course, I had already fought – and sometime killed – birds with larger claws than his, but I would still be a fool if I didn’t took the size difference into account.

Which is why I had to do this reconnaissance mission. When the battle would start, we would be in his territory. He would know the battlefield like his nest while it would be a completely new place for me. All I could do, for now, was to soar around and try to remember as much details as I could. It wouldn’t help much, but, hopefully, I would be able to get a rough idea of how the air was down there.  
If I had only one opportunity to become a human, even for just two hours, I would use it now to make a quick pass by a library or an Internet café and learn everything I could about great horned owls but, sadly, I didn’t have that opportunity. It wasn’t a big disappointment, thought: I didn’t want to deal with this as a human. I had been a falcon for so long that I felt more “falcon” than “human” and, anyway, unlike Jacque, _I_ wasn’t too much of a coward to fight someone of my size.

After loitering above his nest for about half an hour, I decided it was time to go home. I had passed enough to time have a rough idea of where the thermals and the winds were and, no matter how useful my reconnaissance tour might be, it wasn’t the only thing I had to do for the three peregrines I lived with – for now, it was mainly defending the nest and bringing some food in the nest but, soon, I would also start to train the eyases to fly and hunt by their own.  
On my way back, I started to look for preys long before I even approached my territory. I knew I was in an unclaimed airspace and that I wouldn’t be bothered if I hunted here – I even had to do such a thing a few time before when I couldn’t find anything in my territory. Of course, if I caught a prey now, it meant I would have to fight the added drag and weight all the way back to the nest but I had been a falcon for long enough to know that skipping a potential prey just because I was too lazy to bring it back was _not_ a luxury I could afford. A prey – especially a fat pigeon – was something way too precious to be ignored and, even if I had more than I needed, I could always put the “left-over” in the few caches I had in my territory.  
Anyway, I was realistic enough to know that there weren’t a lot of chances for me to find any decent prey around here. I was only passing trough and it wasn’t the best hunting spot for a peregrine falcon like me – this was more a spot for owls and hawks desiring rodents for their meals.

Once I got back in the hunting ground I was familiar with, I quickly spotted what would, hopefully, be my next meal: a pigeon. He was slightly fatter than usual which made him even more interesting to hunt. A quick look at the nest told me that Spirit wouldn’t help me on that one: he was more interested in a group of gulls that seemed to be travelling toward our territory.  
I slowly gained some altitude and made my way toward the bird. Even if he was just a pigeon and couldn’t hurt me if his life depended on it, I was still cautious not to be seen. If he decided I was a menace (which I was, actually), he would have plenty of time to reach a safe place before I could catch him. That didn’t meant I was taking my time, of course; the pigeon would soon be out of my territory and, at that point, anyone could go and catch him without problems: the area where he was about to fly didn’t belong to anyone in particular.  
One minute later, when the pigeon was out of my territory, I spotted a hawk that I hadn’t seen before because he had stayed between the sun and me until now. I quickly understood that I had lost that prey and yet, I continued to stalk the pigeon. Even if it was more for the principle than anything else, I couldn’t eliminate the possibility that the hawk would miss and accidentally drive the pigeon deep inside my territory at which point I would be free to kill him (the pigeon, not the hawk.) It would probably make the hawk a little frustrated – for obvious reasons – but it’s not like he would be able to do anything about it, could he?  
After a while, I was close enough to notice that I knew the hawk. It was the same one I had seen in the rehab center and the hawk I planned to “speak” with after the eyases would have leaved the nest.

It wasn’t the first time I had seen him around – he had a small tendency to fly around town even if his territory was a few kilometers away – but it was the first time he _hunted_ here. Of course, it wasn’t much of a problem because the hunt wasn’t taking place in anyone’s territory, but it still made me worried.  
What if he tried to hunt in Spirit’s territory at some point? Well, Spirit would almost certainly engage him but what if that hawk tried to fight back? I couldn’t help Spirit without attacking the red-tailed hawk – and make myself his enemy – but I couldn’t let Spirit get hurt either! Even worse, what if he tried to attack the eyases? I would defend them, of course, but it also meant that I might have to kill him and lose the only usable “clue” I had as well as losing any support from whoever was with him in the barn (that is, if they wouldn’t try to avenge him).  
I was helpless in this situation. All I could do was to keep an eye on him and try to gently chase him away if he was about to hunt the wrong place but, even then, I wouldn’t have any choice but hope that he would go away without trying to resist.

Before turning around to continue my hunt, I watched the hawk dive on the pigeon and kill him. I hate to admit it, but I felt a little jealous when I saw him take the body to wherever he planned to eat it: that pigeon seemed particularly fat and tasty. On the bright side, there were still those few gulls I had seen earlier. With some luck, they would be where I could hunt one by now. I turned around and…

Crows. Two of them. Two lazy feathery jerks were flying in Spirit’s territory. These two _punks_ were not heading toward the nest – fortunately for them – but they were still _crows._ That kind of bird was too lazy to work and always ended up stealing the food of honest raptors that actually worked for it – that is, when they were not mobbing us for now no reasons whatsoever. There was no ways I would stay here doing nothing while two stupid crows were flying inside our territory.  
I gave a quick look at Spirit’s nest. He hadn’t seen these crows – not yet, at least.

There was a time when I would have been helpless in that situation because I didn’t know how to warn Spirit about an intruder. However, it wasn’t the case anymore. Since then, I had learned how to speak to him.

“Kak-kak-kak-kak…. Kak-kak-kak-kak-kak”

I saw Spirit jerk his head in my direction and quickly notice the two crows. It felt good to see him do that: it gave me the impression that I was talking to someone the same way I used to do when I was a human.  
I had barely finished speaking (well, screeching) that Spirit was already flying toward the two flying jerks as fast as he could. If I started to go after them now, both of us would reach them at the same time.  
As I was going as fast as I possibly could, I gained some altitude until I was roughly a hundred meter higher than the crows. By now, they had certainly seen us and, since they didn’t look like they were about to flee, we would probably have a little fight between each other. When I was right above the crows, I briefly considered pulling a split-S but I quickly chose against it; I wanted to be sure of my shot and I would have plenty of other opportunity to train myself at that maneuver.  
I quickly rolled upside down and immediately started to dive toward one of the crows while Spirit was taking care of the other one. It wasn’t much different from hunting except that I wasn’t folding my wings as much as usual: I wanted more maneuverability than pure speed.

When I was getting close, he suddenly turned upside down and raised his claws. Knowing perfectly that I wouldn’t be able to approach him without injuring myself in the process, I recovered from my (short) dive and immediately performed an Immelmann turn to be, once again, above the crow as he was still in inverted flight.  
I didn’t wait and tried another dive as soon as I was in the good position even if I knew I wouldn’t be able to hurt him. That wasn’t my goal, anyway, I just wanted to scare him and make him understand that he had no business around here.  
It wasn’t hard to do. These two particular crows weren’t looking for troubles (at least, compared to other crows) and they quickly “ran” off once Spirit and me had made a few dives on them; even if the crow Spirit had attacked looked like if he had lost a few feathers during the encounter.  
Good for him. That will teach him to work and get his food by himself instead of stealing it.

Once they had left our territory, we both stayed in the surrounding area for a few minutes just to make it clear that they shouldn’t try their little stunt a second time if they valued their lives. When we were sure the message had passed, we both made our way to a different part of the territory and started hunting.  
With some luck, Spirit would manage to catch one of the seagulls that were flying near the border. Those birds were heavy, compared to a pigeon, but they were so delicious to eat and gave so much meat that they were definitively worth the extra effort.

It wasn’t a surprise that they were Colin’s favorite meal.


	17. Who are you?

After pushing the finished prey – some leftover pigeon from yesterday – out of the nest, I turned around and stared at the two young falcons I lived with. I knew it was probably the last time I would see them and that I would probably not be there when they would fly for the first time and when they would kill their first prey. I knew that I might not live long enough to see these two birds grow up and become adults.  
I also knew that it was only because I was about to do something extremely risky and that I could easily choose not to do it without too many consequences. Yet, I felt it was something that _had_ to be done. I _had_ to fight Jacque until one, if not both, of us would die. In a few hours, I would learn if the week long intensive training I had done was sufficient to win a fight against a great-horned owl.

I flew out of the nest and headed toward Jacque’s nest. Roughly one minute later, I decided to practice a little more before the fight. It would make me a little less nervous and, since it was still dawn, Jacque might still be hunting if he hadn’t caught anything yet; moreover, I preferred to wait a little to let the sun warm the air a bit.  
I didn’t practice for a very long time, though: barely half an hour. I didn’t want to tire myself before the fight and, with the amount of practice I had since last week, a few hours more wouldn’t make any differences. I wasn’t really sure what to do, now. I couldn’t really do some additional training or hunt anything at all without tiring myself and, although I could easily go back to the nest and wait there, I was somewhat afraid that I would chicken out and give up my plan so I could see the small falcons grow up.  
After some time passed flying aimlessly, I decided to head toward a food cache I had – purposely choosing one that didn’t allowed me to see my nest. Unless a crow had stolen it, there was a pigeon in it. Even if landing there would allow me to rest a little, I mostly opted for that option because I wanted to enjoy the taste of a pigeon at least once during what might very well be the last two hours of my life.

The last two hours of my life.  
It was only when I had pulled the pigeon out of the cache that I fully realized what it meant. In two hours, I would deliberately get into a fight I might not survive. In two hours, I might _die._  
Yes, I had prepared the fight with much more details than any other birds possibly could. Yes, I had trained myself for that specific fight more than any reasonable bird would.  
Yes, I had made sure to attack on the best day at the best moment possible.  
And yet, it all came down to sheer dumb luck. I couldn’t control who would get that fortunate gust of wind at the correct moment or who would get that blinding reflection of the sun over a windshield. I was betting my life over a coin toss - Tail meant life and Head meant death. If I won the bet, I would live to see Beatrice and Colin grow up; if I lost the bet, I would just… cease to be. There wouldn’t even be a “me” to perceive my death: the “me” would simply disappear forever.  
All that for two birds.   
Two birds that I cherished more than anything.

Funny, isn’t it? How fast can people change their entire personality and their values?  
One month earlier, the idea of doing an extensive training during a whole week just to have a better chance of killing someone else in cold blood because that someone had killed a loved one would seem horrible to me. Even if that someone were posing a risk for another loved one, I wouldn’t go for the kill. I would just arm myself with whatever I could and stay on my guards after giving a call to the police. In the very worst scenario, if I had to make sure he died, I would simply hire an army of lawyers and make sure he would get the death penalty.  
But knocking on his door and killing him by surprise after an intensive training? Never.  
Especially if it was for two birds. Just a few weeks ago, the idea of risking my live to protect two birds would be more than ridiculous. No matter how dire the danger would be, I would always choose to stay safe and let the birds deal with the threat by themselves; depending on how tempted I would be, I may even seek professional help before I could commit a murder or kill myself in a nearly suicidal “mission”.

But now, it was the total opposite.  
Doing an intensive training for a whole week for the sole purpose of killing someone to protect two birds seemed absolutely normal; I didn’t even cared if it was extremely risky and that I had a lot of chances to die. After one short month, I was ready to do something that would have seemed crazy and unthinkable for me before – and probably for the vast majority of people. I guess I should have been worried that, in a mere month, I was now ready to kill someone just to protect two birds, but I didn’t. Not at all. It just seemed too obvious that killing Jacque was the best option and that, if I had to do it less than a month after becoming a falcon, it was only because he had murdered Antoine not long after I had woken up with a feathery body and not because I was losing my mind.

Even if I wasn’t really hungry, I forced myself to eat a little; I didn’t want to lack energy or to be distracted by hunger when the fight would take place. Once I was finished, I decided to go back in the air. Although if I had a specific destination in mind – the rehab center – I didn’t fly there directly. I wasted a lot of time – more than an hour, in fact - to just roam around and enjoy the wonderful feeling of flying for the sake of flying; I could never get tired of it, even if I would live several millennia. Now that I was used to be a falcon – and even considered myself as one -, I doubted I would accept to change back to my original specie if I had the chance. Being a human again was not worth losing the ability to fly.  
Even if the barn was (roughly) on the way to Jacque’s nest, the main reason I wanted to fly here was to see where I had passed one of the last moments as a full human. Of course, I was already transforming into a falcon at the time, but the changes were slow. Before paying Spirit a visit, all I could attribute to be part of the transformation was the stronger than usual desire to fly, that recurring dream in which I did (or tried) a half Cuban eight and those few feathers I had spotted on my chest the day I visited the Gardens. It was only after I had been bitten a second time that the most extreme changes began and that I definitively stopped being 100% human; the next two days, I had woken up half-bird half-human only to change back after a few minutes but, on the third day, I had woken up as a bird and never changed back.  
I had, since then, managed to adapt myself to my new reality and met a really good friend.

Seeing the barn – and the cages inside – from the air created a strange feeling in me. Some kind of weird mix of safety, fear, disgust and gratitude. Even if I was feeling perfectly safe in the air, out of reach from any humans, being near the place where I had been encaged scared me and knowing there were a good number of unfortunate birds trapped in small cages created a sentiment of disgust toward those who were running the center but, at the same time, I was thankful to them for helping those birds.  
I then realized that the incoming fight might result in a fate that, from a bird perspective, could very well be worse than death. It was, fortunately, unlikely to happen, but I could be injured in a way that would prevent me to fly for the rest of my live and still be saved by someone. If it were to happen, I would be kept inside the small cages of the barn for a long time until I would be shipped to a zoo. There, I would be put in another cage where everyone could see me and, each day, I would be fed cold food that I wouldn’t have hunted. From time to time, I would be taken into a third cage so that a veterinary could check how I was and heal me whenever I became sick.  
And that would be it.  
My life - if such a fate could be called so - would consist of moving from cages to cages without any hope of ever flying again. It would be just like when I was healed at the Rehab center but more humiliating and much, _much_ longer.

Still, the eyases were worth the risk. They were worth living as a flightless bird for the rest of my life.  
They were worth everything.  
I had seen them born and loved them as if they were my children’s. I could still remember how my heart had melted when their egg tooth had breached their egg, how relieved I had been after I had returned from the barn and saw they were all fine and how happy and proud I had felt when they had separated themselves from the ground for the first time. Spirit and the two young peregrine falcons were the only three persons on earth that had welcomed me in the avian world when my former specie was, at best, rejecting me and, at worst, literally trying to kill me; by doing so, they had provided the social support I needed at the beginning of my falcon life and, at the same time, gave me a “mission” to hold on while I was freaking out over my transformation. If it weren’t for them accepting me in their family, I would have lost my mind and died. Even if we ignored that I was part of their family thanks to some “reverse adoption”, helping them to get rid of Jacque was the very least I could do to help them in return of everything they had done for me. Moreover, on a purely egoist point of view, I couldn’t fool myself and think that I could live completely alone. Thought I had the body of a falcon and considered myself as one, I still had my human mind that demanded some kind of social interaction; even if I couldn’t hold long conversations with Spirit, I could still talk to him to have the social interaction I desperately needed.  
It wouldn’t last forever, unfortunately. The only reason Spirit and I lived together was the two young falcons in the nest. When they would fly away, I would have to move back to my old nest - for all I knew, Spirit would attack me or decide not to search a mate because of me.  
The day it would happen, I would be separated from the only person I could interact with as a falcon and, after that, I wasn’t sure what I would do.

I guess I would probably try to “talk” to someone or, at least, make someone understand that I wasn’t like the other falcons. I would probably try to contact the children’s first since they could help me understand what had happened to me and, once I would finally solve the mystery, go see the veterinary that had saved me and offer my help. After all, this would give me something to do - apart hunting, I mean - and, at the same time, allow me to have “real” conversations with someone; it would also be a way to put my… specialness… to profit since, as a bird, I could search a larger area in a shorter time to find an injured animal and/or to act as air reconnaissance to help the law enforcement to surround and capture poachers to make sure they pay for what they did. But, in my opinion, that wasn’t the most useful thing I could do. All of that could easily be done with a helicopter fitted with an infrared camera. What couldn’t be done by anyone else but me was adopting young birds when their parents died. Of course, those poor birds could be raised in a specialized center, but I was the only one who could make sure they had a _real_ childhood: one that wouldn’t be spent in a cage.  
I knew how it felt to be kept in a small cage and no birds, not even Jacque, deserved such an awful fate.

Although it was time to attack and that I was ready to do it now, I decided to take some rest for a few minutes. I didn’t really need it, but I wanted to be as rested as I could be when I would finally fight – and hopefully kill - Jacque. I looked around for a place where I could rest and quickly spotted a nice branch that would make a comfortable perch; I landed on it with ease. I then took a few minutes to relax and revise my plan for the last time - take a rock near the park, fly over Jacque’s nest, drop it and do a split-S to kill him as he fly away.  
When I took off, I noticed a hawk - the same one I had “met” when I was being healed - flying over the barn. I turned slightly to the left to be sure that he wouldn’t see me as a threat: it would be quite ironic to be attacked less than five minutes before I would start to fight against Antoine’s murderer.

<Jake, is that you? >

Wait, what?  
I recognized that voice. The last time I had heard it, I was a human and a gillette was trying to cut me into pieces.  
The hawk flying over the barn was the telepathic hawk who had saved me that day.  
My mind raced to decide what to do. I wasn’t sure if I should act as a “true” falcon that didn’t have a human mind – which would be very easy to do – or find a way to show him I understood him. The first option wouldn’t change anything to my situation. I would still fight Jacque and take care of Spirit’s children’s until they would fly away. It was probably the safest option on the short term.  
On the other hand, this might be my only chance to show him that I used to be a human. Plus, if we found a way to communicate, I would be able to get in touch with the children’s and the veterinary. I would probably not need it, but they could give me some help if I couldn’t find enough prey to feed the young peregrines or make sure that they receive proper care if they injured themselves when they would fly for the first time.  
The second option was the good one - both for my family and me. At worst, if the hawk tried to attack the nest, Spirit and I could easily take care of him.

I started to repeatedly tilt left and right – a typical sign used in aviation to acknowledge an instruction during a radio failure. Then, to make it obvious I wasn’t some random falcon acting a bit strange, I screeched a well-known signal in Morse code: the SOS; three dots, three dashes, three dots.  
Then, for the first time in my second life, someone talked to me with actual words and expected me to fully understand those same words.

<Who are you? >

 


	18. Who am I?

_Who are you.  
_ If I my anatomy allowed me to do so, I would have cried.  
Someone knew that I used to be a human.  
Someone knew I could talk like a human.  
Someone _wanted_ to talk to me like a human.  
This was one of the happiest days in my life.

I quickly landed on the ground and, using my claws, wrote “HI” on the ground; I didn’t really know what else I could write: it’s not like I could describe all the events that led me here when I could only draw some letter using nothing but my claws. Once it was done (which took quite some time), I took a few steps behind and looked directly at the red-tailed hawk. I wanted to make sure he knew I was waiting for his answer.

<Who are you? >

His tone was a little harsher this time, and I could clearly see he was staying where he could have a huge advantage against me if he decided to attack.  
Walking back toward my message, I tried to make the “I” look slightly more like a “O” – the result was pretty bad – and awkwardly changed my previous message into a “HOW SPIK” - it would have been too hard and exhausting to make a proper sentence and, anyway, he could understand the message despite the poor grammar.

<It’s thought-speak. Just… think at me. > He answered after a short hesitation. Clearly, he had as much trouble to explain it as I had to understand his instructions. How could I think _at_ someone? Did I have to imagine the person while thinking of what I wanted to say? Should I, instead, imagine my thoughts being sent to the person or simply imagine I was talking to him?  
That last one seemed to make more sense, if it had any.  
<You mean, like this? > I asked, wondering if I would receive an answer or if I would have to try something else to “think at him”.  
<Yes. Who are you? >  
It was quite strange to “talk” like that. It didn’t felt like I was really talking but more like if I was imagining everything I said; although I was extremely happy to have met someone with whom I could have a lengthy conversation, screeching seemed closer to actual talking than whatever thought-speak was.  
<I… I don’t know if you remember but… a few weeks ago, you saved someone from some sort of blade-covered alien. I was that someone > I answered, deliberately not telling my name. < And… uh… Mind if I get airborne? >  
I was feeling extremely clumsy. For weeks, I had only used the falcon’s language and never spoke in a human language at all; trying to speak in English after all that time spent as a falcon felt like trying to start an old, rusty, engine that hadn’t been touched for several decades.  
<Oh. Uhh, yeah, sure. > He answered with an obvious tone of surprise in his “voice”. He then waited until I was back in the air before continuing his “interrogation”. < When did it happen? >  
All my suspicions I had toward him vanished the instant he finished his question. Even if he was obviously asking me these questions to determine if I could be a threat, his tone was of pure compassion. He knew what I had been trough. He knew the day-to-day hardships that constituted the life of a bird of prey. He knew how it felt to be suddenly forced to hunt to survive and how it felt to be forced to constantly watch out for any predators attempting to kill you. He knew how it felt to be suddenly deprived of the most common “human” commodities and placed in a world that didn’t allow any kind of vacation at all; taking a break and eating at a nearby restaurant was not an option in the avian world.  
<Honestly, I’m not sure. > I said while trying to recall the chronological order of the events after the Chase, <I guess… a week after you saved me or so? >  
The more this small introduction continued, the more uncomfortable I felt. I wasn’t used to have a conversation like this. I was so used to the relative isolation of the falcon life and to have Spirit and his children’s for sole company that I had become more comfortable in this isolation.  
I didn’t want this unexpected conversation to continue anymore. I didn’t want to talk to a human. Not yet. I wasn’t ready; I had no idea of when I had become a falcon, I had trouble remembering at which hours people usually went to work and went to sleep and I needed some time before being used to talk in English. I had to go back to my nest.  
However, the hawk probably wanted me to stay a bit longer; he wanted me to talk about myself and know whom I was. I had to find an excuse to go back to my nest.

<Uh… look. My food reserves are getting a bit low so… I should go hunt a pigeon or two before it’s too late. > My talking skills were not improving. < So… Mind if I go now and come back… tomorrow… at noon? >  
There was a long pause - maybe five or ten seconds - before he answered me. I guess he was weighting the options and the risks _very_ carefully.  
<If you want, you can escort me back to my nest. > I said, hoping that this last “offer” would convince him.  
<No. No, it’s ok. So, we meet at 12 tomorrow? >  
I guess he, as a bird of prey, could understand why I wanted to leave so soon. Like me, he had to hunt for his food and, unless he got some help from his human friends, he knew as well as me that hunting could take a long time.  
<Yes. But… 12 O’clock in solar hour… I mean, the moment the sun is at the highest. > I said while turning back toward my nest. <So, see you later I guess? >  
<Yes, see you later. >  
We then both parted each way. Well, kind of. Although our speeds were different (hint: I was faster), we both headed toward the town. I guess he was planning to tell his friends about me and arrange tomorrow’s meeting.

* * *

I raked my talons outward and flared just before I hit the pigeon; the impact killed him instantly. Even if this pigeon was rather small compared to what I may have managed to take, he would serve as a fine meal for Beatrice and Colin.  
After making sure I had a good grip on him, I slowly turned toward Spirit’s nest and quickly landed next to my friend.

The two young birds I was taking care of made a quick job of the pigeon and, as always, weren’t satisfied and demanded more. Just as I was turning around to take off and hunt something to feed these two gluttons, I heard Spirit fly out of the nest – most certainly to go hunt a few birds.  
Which meant I had some time I could spend with Beatrice and Colin to think about the unexpected conversation I had with whomever that hawk was. At the time, I was eager to accept a meeting with the rest of his band but now… Now I wasn’t even sure if I even wanted to hear about them. For all I knew, they would think I was crazy and decide to force me to quit my friends in order to live a more “human” life or tell me to join them – and abandon my friends – so I could help them fight whatever the yeerks were; for the record, if they opted for any of these options, I would fight my way out at all cost.  
I almost wished I hadn’t met the hawk. Not today, anyway. I didn’t want to have to make such an important decision with so much at stake when I still had to take care of the two young’s. But, unfortunately, I had no choice but to come up with something to say before tomorrow noon; even if it was just a “I’ll come back to you later”.

Unless I just didn’t show up.  
What if I stayed with the family that had adopted me and pretended I was just another normal falcon each time they tried to talk to me? Yes, the hawk knew where I lived and could probably recognize me, but it’s not like they could do anything against it. The hawk, whoever he was, knew better than to get anywhere near the nest of another bird of prey – especially with two juveniles in it – and the fours humans… Well, unless they learned to fly, I was out of reach from them.  
But that wouldn’t get me anywhere, would it?  
I would never know what had happened to me. I would never know why I had become a falcon and why I looked exactly like Spirit. I would never know what a yeerk was and what was a controller. I would never know what was that weird blade-covered lizard that had chased me in the wood. I would never know how the Sharing was involved in that mess.  
I would never know if there were any chances I could be a human again, from time to time; although I didn’t really miss being a human, I wouldn’t say no to the possibility of becoming one again - as long as I could decide when and for how long – just for the nostalgia of getting a hot shower.

I laid down and looked at the two young falcons. In a way, the hawk had indirectly saved them by saving me. If I hadn’t survived, and thus never became a falcon, the three eggs wouldn’t have been brooded in time and the eyases would have died before even getting out of their eggs. I owed him my life and the lives of the three young falcons that had saved my sanity.  
When we had talked together, he didn’t sound like he had any suspicions on me or like if he had any intentions to hurt me. He sounded like if he completely understood that, while he had the chance to have some friends to support him in his new life, I had been forced to deal with all the changes alone - without knowing what was happening to me. All he wanted to do was to make sure I was fine and that I didn’t need urgent help.  
I guess I didn’t have a lot of choices but to go to the Rehab center tomorrow; even just to thank him for saving my life and to say that everything was fine. If it wasn’t for him, I would be dead and Antoine, Beatrice and Colin wouldn’t have used their egg tooth; sparing a small amount of my time for him was the least I could do for him. Moreover, just like they probably wanted to make sure I wasn’t a threat, I had to make sure they weren’t a threat to me and the other falcons.  
But, before that, before I could even think of going there, I had to make sure the meeting wasn’t a trap. I had taken too many stupid risks so far and there was no way I would put my friends in danger.  
Then, just like I had done a few hours earlier, I took off and went toward the Rehab center – this time, knowing perfectly I would be back home at the end of the day.

Barely two minutes later, I was looking for anything that looked like a trap. I wasn’t even bothering to hide myself; I knew that a red-tailed hawk could spot me from a good distance. I wasn’t betting on concealment but on deception: I was far enough to appear as if I was genuinely hunting some pigeons and not performing a reconnaissance mission.  
Although I had to take some time to do some (real) hunting and was forced to take a pause when some lazy crow tried to steal my food (instead of working to get his meal like any self-respecting bird), I passed the rest of the day observing the center. It was only when it was literally too dark for me to see the Rehab center that I turned around and headed back home.

Just a few minutes after reaching my destination, I flew out of the nest, again, and landed on a nearby building. Even if I didn’t think that they would try to attack me, I didn’t want to take any risks; if there had to be a fight, I didn’t want it to take place near the young birds and put them at risk of being injured during the battle. Plus, if they decided to attack the nest, expecting to find me there, I was in a good position to ambush them as soon as Spirit would start the fight.

Now that all the “arrangements” for the night were done, I just had one thing left to do before I could call it a day: finding a nickname – for now, I didn’t want the hawk or the teenagers to know my real name.  
I started to think of which nickname suited me the best. “Falcon”, “birdmen”, “peregrine” and the likes were too easy and didn’t really represent me as much as I would have wanted.  
“Lightning”, maybe? That WW2 plane was one of the fastest aircraft of its period so it would represent a peregrine falcon quite well. But… No. As much as it was tempting to name myself after the famous WW2 fighter, they would probably assume I named myself after the massive electrostatic discharge.  
“Zero”? Like me, these Japanese planes were fast and agile.  
No. There was an even better nickname.  
“Hayabusa”, from the Japanese fighter Ki-43.  
These planes were light, quick and agile. However, to reduce the weight as much as possible, there was no protection at all for the pilot or the fuel tank and the tanks were not self-sealing; a few well-aimed shots were more than enough to start a fire and take it down. But first, the plane had to be hit. Which, thanks to their speed and agility, was not an easy task at all.  
Just like me.  
If a predator caught me, my survival chances were low. _Very_ low. However, that predator first had to catch me, which, thanks to my speed and my agility, was not something that could be done easily.  
Both the Ki-43 Hayabusa and I were easily taken down when we were caught but catching us in the first place was hard.

Plus, “Hayabusa” meant “peregrine falcon” in Japanese so there was a little humorous irony in choosing that particular nickname.


	19. What am I?

 

 

I watched Spirit dive and zoom past a crow at full speed. I would gladly join him in the chase but, alas, I was too tired to chase anything but pigeons – even then, only the oldest one. The reason was that I barely had any sleep last night. At first, it was because I was “training” myself to talk by imagining the conversations I would likely have and, once that was done, the though of going to the meeting prevented me from sleeping. When the night had begun to give way to the day, I had resigned myself and flew back to my nest.  
Then, I just waited. Literally. I did nothing else but… waiting. I was too tired to have a good chance of catching any prey and the last food cache Spirit and I possessed had been emptied yesterday; preys were a bit scarce these days so I couldn’t afford to scare them away with unsuccessful chases. Some time ago, I would have searched for something to distract myself for the next few hours by fear of getting bored. Now? I had no such fears. I had been a falcon for weeks. During these weeks, I had often perched for hours until a prey would get close enough and, on a few occasions, spent an entire day inside the nest box while waiting for the heavy rain to clear out so I could get something to eat. I had become so accustomed to waiting a long time that nothing could bore me anymore; even the most experienced fisherman in existence would look impatient compared to me.  
Unsurprisingly, even if I had to wait at least six hours, I barely noticed the time pass.

Before taking off, I looked at the two young falcons and wondered what would happen afterward. I knew that the hawk and the children’s would find it weird that I lived with Spirit and that I not only acted as a surrogate parent to two falcons but that I was also willing to start a fight with a great-horned for the sole reason that the said owl posed a risk to those two falcons even if I knew I would probably die during the fight. It wouldn’t change anything for me, of course, but if they were a bit over-zealous, they might think it was their duty to help me and try to coerce me into quitting the three birds that constituted my family in my second life – the feathery one. I guess I should refrain from telling them the _real_ reason why I was taking care of Beatrice and Colin. If I told them I felt like if I were part of their family, they would instantly assume I lost it long ago and decide that, in my best interest, they had to prevent me from seeing them again. The best “explanation” I could give them was probably that I felt like helping them was the last link to humanity I had or something similar. They would certainly understand why I could need a link to humanity (even if I didn’t thought I had one – much less needed one – anymore).  
Shortly after takeoff, as I gained some altitude, I briefly considered if I should bring a rat with me as some sort of gift but decided against. The red-tail had had friends to support him when he had been transformed: for all I knew, he might see himself as a full human and may not appreciate my gift. Plus, even if I he would appreciate a free prey, I simply couldn’t afford to give one; prey was becoming a bit scarce lately and I preferred to have some extra margin if it was to become _too_ scarce at some point – and, even if prey were plentiful and if I knew he would appreciate one, I doubted on my ability to catch one: I was a Spitfire, not a Stuka.

When I had the barn in sight, I started to describe a large circle around it. I wish I could say it was to make a last check to see if there was anything suspicious but it would be a lie. The only reason was that I wanted to delay the meeting a little. Even if I was looking forward to speak (well, thought-speak) again and to get the answers to all my questions (hopefully), I was extremely nervous by what I was about to do. Since my first day as a falcon, I had gradually learned to be leery of humans; after all, they had chased me for no reasons whatsoever, tried to kill me for “fun” and caged me for an eternity (plus, they were simply too large not to make me nervous when they were near me – the difference of size between me and a human was probably the same between an average human and a two story high one). Moreover, the meeting would probably take place _inside_ the barn (i.e. an enclosed place), which would cut several escape routes. Any bird right in his mind would stay away from being in such situation and would actively fight to get out of it if it couldn’t be avoided.  
Of course, knowing that I would have to endure the sight of all those poor birds trapped in a miniscule caged was not helping at all; I knew too well how it was like to not be able to spread our wings without hitting the prison we were forced to live in.

After ten minutes or so of slowly spiraling toward the meeting spot, I noticed a peregrine falcon flying directly toward me. It didn’t took me long to realize that he wasn’t a “real” falcon. I had lived with Spirit for weeks: I knew how real peregrine falcons lived, how they talked, how they flew, how they ate and how they moved. The falcon coming toward me certainly looked like a real one for untrained eyes but my eyes were everything but untrained. I waited until we were a little closer before trying to “thought-speak” with him. Even if I had no idea how it worked, I seriously doubted it had an unlimited range.

<Are you one of the kids or just another falcon? > I asked, hoping my guess was correct and that he would answer with a “yes” – I hadn’t slept for the whole night and was definitively not in the mood for a chase, especially against a fellow peregrine determined to fly after me at the speed of a car on the highway.

<Yes, I presume you’re the one we’re waiting for? > The “falcon” answered.

I recognized the voice – it was the voice of their leader. The last time I had heard it, I was inside a cage and listening to four kids planning a mission. That was also when, without knowing it, I had witnessed the hawk…  
Wait, at the time, there was only one bird – the red-tailed hawk – and the leader of the group was definitively a human when I had seen him for the last time. This meant, obviously, that he too had been transformed into a bird since that day. Did it mean that the four children’s – well, three children’s now – were, one by one, transforming into animals? Maybe that was how the aliens managed to keep their existence secret? Each time someone discovered them, they would transform him into an animal to silence him? When I thought about it, it would be a smart move from their part. No bodies to hide, no risk of being seen killing or kidnapping someone and permanently preventing their victim to talk unless that victim discovered the thought-speak thing.

<You presumed correctly. > I said < Out of curiosity, what did the other three got? Did they have the chance to receive a pair of wing like us? >  
There was a short silence – maybe half a second at most – before he answered. Sadly, I couldn’t tell if it was because he was surprised I had “guessed” that or if it was because I was so far from the truth that he couldn’t make sense of what I was asking.  
< The others are waiting in the barn. We’ll explain everything there. >

I was tempted to suggest another meeting place – some far off meadow in the forest for example – but I knew better than to do it. Judging by how their leader flew, they were obviously new at being birds. Just like I had done at the beginning of my new life (when I was unable to kill pigeons), they were probably holding on everything “human” they could – which included meeting _inside_ a building instead of doing it out in the open like a “true” bird would do. Asking them to meet in the forest would be simply… cruel.  
Beside, I knew how the barn was like – I had stayed for so long that I could probably fly inside it with my eyes closed. If I perched near one of the windows, I could have a good view of the inside and, at the same time, have access to a quick escape route if I wanted to bail out.  
<Ok, I’ll follow you. > I answered as we both turned toward the Rehabilitation Center.

Once we arrived at our destination, I was told to circle around the barn for a few minutes. Apparently, they didn’t want someone to notice two peregrine falcons going inside the same building at the same time – it would be too suspicious, I imagine. Once it was my turn to land, I flew trough one of the window and landed in the rafters – the red-tailed hawk was already perched there but there was more than enough room for both of us. I turned around to face my entry point and looked at the ground where I expected the fours humans/birds to be.  
Instead of seeing four birds like I was expecting, four teenagers accompanied by an alien that I hadn’t seen before were sitting in front of me. The alien, for the most part, looked a bit like a blue centaur. The similarity, however, ended there. Unlike “real” centaurs, he lacked a mouth, had a long tail which ended in what looked like a sharp blade (obviously meant for defense and/or attack), had seven fingers on each hands and, finally, in addition of having two eyes on his face, had two stalk eyes mounted on his eyes; those probably gave him a nice 360 degrees field of vision. Unlike when I had seen the gillette, I had no sudden flood of questions.  
Honestly, what could I ask? I already knew that aliens existed and were present on earth. I couldn’t think of any questions that didn’t turned around where he came from or how he ate without a mouth and I wasn’t in the mood for biology and even less for astronomy.

Before I learned about the thought-speak thing, I sometime wondered how I would be able to communicate with a human once Beatrice and Colin would have flown away from the nest. Every time, I would end up imagining how it would look like and, every time, I would ask questions about what had chased me, why I woke up as a bird and how it happened.  
Instead, I asked a question that was entirely unrelated to all that. A question that seemed meaningless compared to what I had lived so far. Yet, it felt like it was one of the most important one I would ask today.  
<So, which day are we? > Judging by their look, the four teenagers weren’t expecting me to ask that question first. The answer came from the black girl who had saved me and imprisoned me in this place after I had engaged Jacque.  
“We’re Thursday.“  
This was the first time I had heard a human use his voice to talk to me since I had waked up to discover my body covered in feathers. The same girl had already talked to me – when she was picking me up after my fight with Jacque – but, at the time, she wasn’t expecting me to understand and even less to answer. She was just using a generic sentence with a calm voice so I wouldn’t panic and try to fight back despite my injuries. _This_ time, she was expecting me to understand and answer and, to be honest, it was a little weird for me.  
< No, I mean, the date. What’s the date? >  
“The 13th” The same teenager said before adding, after a short pause, “Of June.”  
I was a falcon since April 26. If today was June 13, it meant that I had passed… a month and 18 days (48 days) as a bird - since the two adorable falcons in my nest had yet to fly, I could easily assume we were still in 1996. This was a lot more than my guestimate of one month I had in mind before.

I then noticed that the other peregrine falcon – the one that had accompanied me here – was missing.  
<So, where’s the peregrine falcon? Last time I saw him, he was landing here. >  
I saw one of the teens – a boy with black hair - crack a little smile. The kind of smile you have when you’re about to tell a joke to someone.  
“He’s standing right here.”  
The voice was the same one I had heard when the falcon had “thought-spoken” to me. Did it meant that… No. How could it be? Surely, if there were a way to revert back to my human form like that teenager had apparently done, I would have discovered it by now, right? Even by pure chance of randomly doing whatever had to be done in order to turn back. Yet, until yesterday, I had no idea I could use telepathy to talk to someone else and all I had to do was to think at someone in particular; nothing really complicated.  
<Are you telling me that you are that falcon? >  
“Yes.”  
Good. That meant there might be a way for me to turn back into a human without having to abandon my precious wings. But then, why hadn’t the hawk turned back? Was it an ability that you lost once you were transformed for a certain time? Like, for the first two weeks you could be a human or a bird as you wished and, after that grace period, it was bird life forever? Unless it was based on which species you turned into? I knew so little about this. For all I knew, it might very well depend on which music band you liked the most.

I suddenly realized that I hadn’t presented myself yet. My “training” made me able to talk but, apparently, I still had to remember how to make a proper conversation.  
<Oh, by the way I’m Hayabusa. What are your names? > I asked without transition of any kind. As I said, I was only used to _talk_ , not to maintain a conversation.

“Pleased to meet you, Hayabusa, I’m Jake.” The human/falcon said – if he was surprised by my sudden change of subject, he didn’t show it. “This is Cassie, Marco, Rachel, Tobias” he continued while pointing, respectively, at the girl who had saved me, a Hispanic-looking boy, a blond girl - who I remembered to be the one who wanted to kick yeerk’s but - and at the red-tailed hawk. “And this, is Aximili. Ax, for short. He’s an Andalite.” He ended after a short pause as he pointed at the blue “centaur”.  
I was quite surprised – and happy - that he hadn’t asked for my real name. Either he believed it _was_ my real name either he understood that I didn’t want to tell it, for now.

“What do you know about the… situation?” He then asked.  
<Basically? Not much. I know there’s some alien invasion going on, that the yeerks are the enemy while the controllers are not, that the yeerks are inside the head of the controllers > I started as I searched in my memory for every “clues” I had “collected” until now. < And that the Sharing is involved to some degree in the invasion. > Then, looking at Rachel, I said <Oh, and I also know that you want to kick yeerk’s butts. >  
As I finished this last sentence, I heard a faint chuckle coming from Marco and clearly saw that he was hiding a smile; he was doing it well enough for a human to be unable to see it but, unfortunately for him, I wasn’t a human: I was a falcon. I could spot a prey six kilometers away; noticing a hidden smile less than ten meters away wasn’t a challenge. I made a mental note to ask him what he had found funny in that sentence.  
My eyes – which basically meant my whole head since I couldn’t move them in their sockets – shifted back to Jake.

<So, tell me, how far from the truth am I? > I asked on a semi-serious tone.

“Actually, you’re not that far from it, surprisingly.“ Jake answered “and we’ll explain everything. But first, why don’t you tell a little about yourself?”

My wings slightly dropped in desperation. I was sure I would have left this place with most – if not all – my questions answered. But now, I doubted I would get them anytime soon. It was obvious that telling my story – and answering their questions on the same story – would take a lot of time. So much time, in fact, that it was very possible that I wouldn’t have the time to finish it entirely before having to go away to hunt whatever I could catch ( _if_ I would catch anything).  
It probably wouldn’t take a long time for another session to be scheduled, but it still felt as if I had just lost something very important and extremely precious; I had been tormented by these questions for a good portion of my life.

<No… Please... Can’t it be the opposite? I… The whole transformation thing. It’s been haunting me for so long. Look, I’ll tell everything you want, ok? Just tell me what’s going on. >  
Just as he took a breath to answer, he suddenly looked at Tobias, as if he was listening to him; seemingly, you could exclude someone from a thought-speak conversation by thinking “at” everyone except whomever you wanted to exclude.  
“You promise to tell us everything?” Jake asked after turning back toward me. Obviously, Tobias had taken my defense and had managed to convince Jake to change his mind. I don’t think I should be very surprised. He too knew perfectly how it felt to be forced into a bird life and he could probably make a good guess of how it felt like not to know anything about the how and why of the transformation.  
<Yes. I do. >

“Ok. First thing first, there is, indeed, an invasion going on.” Oddly, it reassured me. It meant that my previous assumptions weren’t the result of paranoia alone. “The invader is a parasite species called yeerk. Without a host, they are essentially blind, deaf, and helpless and they look like slugs. “  
He took a short breath before continuing. I couldn’t know why, but I could sense that this was a difficult subject for him.  
“When someone is infested by one of them, he is known as controller and the yeerk take over the body of their victim. Literally. The unfortunate host find himself trapped in his own body and can do nothing apart helplessly watching the yeerk steal his memories and gain total control over his actions.“ He took another breath. Clearly, this was personal to him. Perhaps he knew a controller personally or used to be one before managing to escape?  
<Let me guess. The Sharing is a front for the invasion? It’s just there to attract their victim before infesting them? > I cut.  
<Yes. They try to get the hosts to be willingly infested. That way, it’s easier to control them. > Tobias had answered this time. <And every three days, they must go back to a yeerk pool to feed on Kandrona rays. >  
“We have only one weapon against them” It was Rachel’s turn, now. “The only person to possess it on Earth are those in this barn and the only Andalite-control in existence, Visser 3, who happen to be the leader for the earth invasion.” She gave a quick look at Tobias; barely noticeable – even for me. “We can become any animal we touch.”  
Was it why I had become a falcon? Had I, somehow, received the ability to transform in the animal of my choice and accidently used it to…  
<Yeah, until we stay in morph for more than two hours. > Instantly, everyone became silent. Tobias had clearly raised a touchy issue. It didn’t take me long to understand. It explained everything.  
<We can’t turn back after two hours, can we? > I asked, making sure to only think at Tobias. I wanted this question to be private.  
<No. You become a nothlit and get stuck in morph forever. >  
I didn’t need to ask the obvious. He had, for whatever reason, stayed more than two hours as a red-tailed hawk and, just like me, had been forced to live as a bird since then. Which meant that I couldn’t turn back either and that the rest of my life would be as a bird - I had stayed as a falcon a lot more than two hours. I couldn’t say I was really sad about that, thought. Since the very beginning of my aerial life, I was expecting to live as a bird for the rest of my life.

Jake was the first to break the silence.  
“It’s your turn now.”  
I took a few seconds to concentrate and remember all the events that had led me here. They were perfectly clear in my mind but when it comes to telling them… That was the hard part. I had lived nearly two months without talking and one night of “training” was simply not enough for such a long and complex story. Especially since they would probably not be satisfied by “Got chased, turned into a bird and lived as one until I met you”. I would have to do my best.  
<Please don’t ask questions. > As soon as I said this, Jake opened his mouth – probably to remind about the promise I had made a few minutes ago. < I _will_ answer them, of course. I’m just asking you not to ask the questions while I’m telling the story. I’ve passed nearly two full months without talking and I’m not completely used to talk yet.  >

I looked outside for a few seconds and realized how hungry I was. I hadn’t eaten a decent meal since yesterday morning. If this meeting took too much time, it was entirely possible that the day would end before I could start hunting – meaning that I would have to wait until tomorrow to eat my next pigeon. I knew from experience (sadly) that the Rehab center had some rats (they didn’t taste so bad, by the way) and, since this place was made to take care of injured animals, Cassie would probably give me one or two if I explained my problem to her but, yeah, no thanks. I was a falcon, not a pigeon. I had enough pride not to coo around humans and eat whatever scrap of food they left behind them. Beside, I’m sure there would be some leftovers in one of our caches I could use as a snack before going to sleep.

<For starter, Hayabusa’s just a nickname. > Judging by their complete lack of surprise, none of them had believed it was my real name. <I was born in 1978 in Alabama. I quickly got sick of the cotton fields and the casual racism so I decided to get out of that place as soon as I could. Fortunately for me, I was lucky enough to find a job in this town as well as an apartment I could rent that were both available soon after my 18th birthday. > Was it really relevant to say that? I wasn’t that person anymore. This was the person I was in my previous life – the human one. I had since “re-born”, the April 26th 1996, as a peregrine falcon. < Once I had made sure everything was ready, I packed my stuff and moved in this town soon after I reached majority. A week or two after settling in this town, I had the bright idea of taking a walk in the forest. It was the day before I would start my new job as a copywriter and I wanted to enjoy my last day of vacation. > Now, the story really started.  
<During that walk, an alien spotted me and started to chase me down the woods. > I paused for a short moment. I didn’t really want to talk about that event. It had, literally, made me doubt of my own mental sanity and led me to do a bunch of stupidly irresponsible decisions. < To save time, I’ll skip that part since I’m pretty sure you all know what happened. > Another pause. Everything I had done during the Chase and the Change was just a bunch of decisions I was not proud of at all. <Afterward, I had the stupid idea of starting an amateur investigation, became a little paranoid and somehow thought that the best way to search for clues without being busted by some secret agent from area 51 was to dress as a homeless person and wander trough the town. > I was approaching the part when I had being bitten by my dearest friend. < Then, when the day was reaching its end, I had the amazing idea of sleeping in that abandoned construction site near the mall just to make my cover as a homeless more credible. Since I didn’t have a sleeping bag, I ended up trying to build some sort of shelter by using plywood and a few cinder blocks. >  
<Just as I had finished the makeshift bed I planned to sleep in, I heard a faint screech and quickly discovered it was coming from an injured peregrine falcon. Somehow, seeing the poor bird there made me realize how stupid my idea was and I promptly decided to stop whatever I was doing and call the Rehab center to report the peregrine falcon. > Now, this was the “fun” part: the part that had sealed my fate and led me into this new life.  
<Of course, since I had to continue my strike of stupid ideas, I went back toward the raptor to check how injured he was and, since I had literally no training whatsoever at handling bird, I got bitten just as I was trying to remove some blue cube out of the way. >  
The second I had mentioned the cube, Marco looked startled and immediately started to ask a question. Unfortunately – or fortunately, depending on how you saw it – Jake managed to stop him before he could even finish his first word. Whatever that cube was, it had a _lot_ of importance for them. <After that, I went back in my apartment, disinfected my wound and took the decision to get myself together and return to my “normal” life. It worked, to some extant, and I even managed to convince my boss not to fire me. The next Saturday, I hopped in a bus and went to the Garden, hoping that I would be allowed to have a look at the bird I had saved. Ultimately, not only I was allowed to do so, but I also had the chance to give him a rat – thought he bit me a second time when I gave him the tasty meal. > I was approaching the part where I had woken up as a falcon.  
<I guess either the bite or the proximity changed something because the next day, I was waking up with the bottom half of my body looking like a bird. On the bright side, that half quickly changed back to my human body but, on a darker side, it sent me back to the paranoia state I was in a few days before and eventually pushed me into taking samples and photographs of where the Chase had taken place. The next day, I had woken up with nearly all my body changed into a bird for a few minutes and, just like the previous day, I panicked. A few hours later, I was investigating the construction site by taking pictures and samples of everything I could find in it. > That was it. The last activity as a human and the start of my second life.

<The day after that, when I woke up, I had become a falcon. At first, I didn’t want to fly, just in case I changed back mid-air, but after two hours or so, I realized I had to accept the obvious and try to find a solution. > I paused a little, wondering if I should continue or if I had told enough information to please them. Either way, I continued. It was pleasant to tell my story and to know that, even if I died today, somebody would know who I was. <On the first day, I was too confused to do anything but flying aimlessly and, as a result, didn’t ate anything nor found a nest before the end of the day. At the end, I just slept on the roof of my apartment. On the second day, I realized that, if I wanted to live, I had to find a source of food and a nest. Since I was still too confused to hunt, I went for the easiest solution and broke inside my own apartment to fetch some bacon I had in my refrigerator. After taking a proper meal, I started to look for a suitable nest. > I forgot to tell them the part where I used my computer to search how a falcon lived. Now, _that_ had been a hilarious experience! Oh well, that would make a funny story for another time.  <Not long after starting my search, I found a nest box with three eggs in it and, because it made me feel more “human” at the time, I decided to take care of the eggs and live in that nest until their missing parents would return. After that, I… > _After that, Antoine was murdered because I was too stupid to understand how much Spirit needed my help. <_I… simply went on my own to live a falcon life and nothing much interesting happened until Tobias talked to me yesterday. > That was an outrageous lie. A lot of things – like how I moved in Spirit’s nest after Antoine’s murder and how I was still living with him – had happened but I didn’t want to tell them, not yet anyway. I was just too afraid of how they would react if they discovered that I thought of myself as a true falcon with no significant “humanity” left apart my memories and that I literally considered myself to be in Spirit’s family. <Oh, wait! I almost forgot. I don’t remember when, but I once got into a fight with a great horned owl and almost got killed. > I turned toward Cassie before continuing. <Remember that injured falcon in the park you brought here? Well, that was me. That’s how I learned about the yeerks, by the way. I was being healed here while you were planning a mission to gather intel. > I took another pause, slightly longer this time, to make sure there wasn’t something I forgot to tell them. <And… That’s about it. > Dammit! Telling them about the fight with Jacque was a mistake. Cassie knew where the park was and, since Tobias had probably told them where I lived, she could guess that there was no way I had acted in self-defense. Jacque’s territory was too far from mine to claim we fought over territory and, since my territory was better in term of preys, I had no reasons to go hunt there – I couldn’t even pretend I was forced to hunt so far from my usual hunting ground because I couldn’t find enough prey: other parts of the town were closer and had a better “selection” of food. At best, I could try to tell them I was just flying around for the fun of it but it wouldn’t be very credible. All I could do was to hope none of them noticed that small detail.

Before Marco could ask the question he had almost asked before, I brought up a question I virtually had since the very first day of my current life. A question so important to me that I didn’t want to go trough all their numerous questions before knowing what I wanted to know for so long. With some hope, it would also provide a quick distraction if anyone was planning to raise the problem with my fight.  
<So, any idea of why I was transformed into a falcon? >  
There was a silence. Whoever knew why was probably thinking of a way to give an answer that was simple enough for me to understand – or they were just trying to find a way to announce me that nobody had any ideas at all. Hopefully, it was the former.

“Yes, tell him everything. And don’t call me Prince” That was from Jake. Obviously, someone had used thought-speak without including me in the conversation. Such ability had to be useful during their missions. You could “talk” to anyone close enough without any risk of being heard and stay completely silent.

<It’s called frotssith > A new voice – probably Aximili – said in thought-speak. <It was a rare problem present in the early models of the Escalfil devices. >  
<It’s the blue cube you found. It gives the power to morph > Tobias privately explained me.  
<In these models, when the device was used improperly and an animal touched the user at a precise moment, its DNA would be confused as the user’s DNA. In such occurrences, the user would be slowly transformed into the animal that had touched him. It usually took two of your weeks to complete the transformation, less if the animal touched the user a second time. The user was then known as a frotlit. >  
So, that was it? That’s why I was a falcon? Because the device had confused Spirit’s DNA for mine and decided to turn me into my “normal” form? It didn’t change anything, in a practical sense, but I was still disappointed. I was expecting something more… poetic… than a mere misusage coupled with a design error.  
<Unlike nothlits, however, frotlits are still able to morph normally. > He then finished.  
I was taken aback for a few seconds. That was not something I was expecting at all. I could change back without being forced to stay as a human forever! I could decide _when_ I would be a human and _how long_ I would be one!! I would be able to do every human thing I sometime missed without losing my wings!!!  
I would be able to go to a library and learn how I could train Beatrice and Colin to fly and hunt and, at the same time, learn about flight combat tactics in order to engage Jacque in a way that wouldn’t leave him any chance whatsoever!!!!  
I couldn’t think of anything better.

With some luck, transforming into a human wouldn’t take a lot of time. Even if I had grown extremely patient, the prospect of being able to have my old body again was so exciting that I couldn’t wait to give it a try. Not because I didn’t felt like a falcon or preferred a human life to a falcon life but simply for the nostalgia of being a human. Just to remember what it was like.  
And to finally kill Jacque to avenge Antoine and make sure Beatrice and Colin would live like true falcons as I had promised they would.

<So, how do I change back into my old self? > I finally asked.

 

 


	20. Falcon Peregrinus

I waited for his answer.  
And I waited, again.  
I must have waited three seconds at most but, as cliché as it may sound, it felt like I had waited hours.  
And, finally, I understood. The “long” silence wasn’t a “I’m about to explain a complex set of instructions” silence but rather a “I have some very bad news” silence. In a way, it made sense. The blue cube I had found had confused Spirit’s DNA for mine so, strictly speaking, I wasn’t different from a normal falcon who would have the power to morph.

<I can’t change back, can I? > I asked Aximili, knowing perfectly what the answer would be. < I’m no different from a normal falcon with the power to morph so, unless I go back in time to touch my past self, I have no way to morph into my old self, is that it? >  
<No. Unfortunately, frotlits can’t regain their original form. > He answered.  
Was I disappointed? Yes, of course. I would be a liar if I tried to pretend the contrary and a fool if I believed it. However, I wasn’t saddened by it. I had given up any hopes to have a human body since the day I had received my wings; Aximili was just confirming the obvious.  
However, I had just learned I was able to transform into any animal I touched – which probably included humans. Sure, I would have preferred to be able to morph into my old self, but it wasn’t a loss; I had received the power to become any animal of my choice, who cared if it didn’t included the “old me” when I didn’t even considered to be that person anymore?  
I looked at the clear blue sky trough the window. I already missed being there to feel the gentle breezes of air on my feathers. Why did I agree to meet them inside the barn? I could have easily perched on a tree outside without being too far from them to thought-speak with them!  
Anyway, it didn’t matter. Just a few more questions to answer and I would finally be free to fly in the thermals.

<Do you have a lot of questions? There’s no emergency at all but in about 30 minutes I should think about leaving if I want to catch something. >  
No one complained this time. I couldn’t say if it was because they felt sorry for me – and thought that this question was nothing but a desperate attempt to change the subject of the conversation – or because they knew I couldn’t do anything against that. Unless I was just over-thinking it.  
“Are you ok?” Cassie asked.  
<Yes… Yeah, don’t worry. It could be worse, I guess. Imagine if a rat had bitten me instead of a falcon? I don’t know about you, but I think that being able to fly by my own and eating pigeons is much better than eating putrefying flesh and seeing everyone flee or try to kill me each time I approach them. > Unsurprisingly, it didn’t seem to convince them; not that I really cared, really, I had a whole lifetime to prove how little I cared about being a human.  
<So, I assume you have questions? Especially about that blue cube I mentioned? > That sudden change of subject wasn’t because of my lack of “conversation” training. I was becoming quite hungry and the sooner I was out of here to hunt the better.  
“When you came back in the construction site to take pictures. You said that you moved the blue cube away. Where did you put it?” Marco asked.

<I… I think I simply threw it away somewhere but don’t quote me on that. It’s too far in my memories to be sure. > It was now obvious that the Escalfil device – or whatever it was called – was extremely important and that they wanted it badly. It wasn’t difficult to guess what would be their next question. <But, anyway, it doesn’t really matter: I brought it in my nest some time ago. I was planning to take a look at it but never found the time to do so. > I started to preen my feathers – more out of habit than anything.  
“Where do you live, then?”  
I stopped the preening to look at Marco. I had no idea of how I could tell him that. The easiest way to tell him where I lived would, for a human, to give an address or some directions. Unfortunately, I didn’t know what the address was or how a human could get to the building where my nest was – even less how he would reach the nest after finding the building. Unlike humans, I wasn’t forced to follow the roads and walk around the buildings; roads, addresses and street signs were completely irrelevant for me. I knew where it was from a bird perspective, but not from a human one.  
< If you want an address, I’m afraid I can’t help you: I don’t even know which road I live on. But… Say, do you all have bird morphs? Any birds would do but, ideally, it should be something else than bird of preys. There’s a falcon nest with two chicks in it not that far from my old nest so their parent could see you as a threat. >  
I thought of how I would react in Spirit’s place. What would I do if I saw a flock of five seagulls accompanied by a red-tailed hawk while Spirit flew some distance ahead of them?  
Obvious. I would attack them by behind. If we caught a seagull each, we would have enough food for today and have plenty of left-over for the next day – maybe even days (plural) – if Spirit had already caught something.  
<Actually, forget what I just said. Preys are somewhat scarce these days so a flock of five seagulls would definitively get attacked by a hungry raptor. > I looked back at Jake. <If you want, I can show you the way right now. My nest is just a few minutes away from here so you won’t have any troubles getting there. > I looked yet again at the clear blue sky – where falcons like me belonged. I was here for, what, thirty or forty minutes at most? That was way too long for me. I already missed the openness of the sky and the absolute freedom my powerful wings gave me.  
I focused back on Jake.  
<But there’s nothing really urgent for now. The cube’s safe in my nest and no one will go check there. >  
Something moved outside the barn.  
A bird. No idea which kind, but still a bird. A prey. Food. Near enough to be worth a shot. Even better, by the way he flew, I could tell he wasn’t in a perfect shape.  
This was an easy prey.  
I instantly switched my focus on the bird. I had to keep my eyes on him (or her) at all cost - I couldn’t take the risk of losing such an easy opportunity. I knew I was a bit tired to hunt but, I wasn’t in my usual hunting ground so scaring a prey away would be of no consequences whatsoever; if I was lucky, he might even flee inside my territory and give Spirit a chance to kill him.  
<Look, there’s a bird out there that look quite delicious and I haven’t ate since yesterday so… Well, I’m going to hunt it down while you guys make a decision, ok? >  
I took off before they could answer. I could reasonably guess they would want me to stay a little longer but, unfortunately, I couldn’t wait that much time without losing my possible meal; which was a luxury that I couldn’t afford.  
If the last 48 days had taught me anything, it was that every potential prey was important and every opportunity was worth the split-second needed to decide the best way to attack. The question of whether or not the prey was worth the effort or if there was a need for an additional prey was an entirely different story.

As soon as I was outside the barn – to my great relief – I quickly calculated a basic trajectory. He was too close and I was too tired to make an elegant swoop; I would simply fly as fast as possible and rely on my wings to pursue him in level flight. I would have only one attempt at this as this chase would take up whatever energy I still had; after that, I would only be able to “guide” preys toward Spirit and let him do the kills – we often hunted together like that, thought, so it wouldn’t be that much of a problem.  
The hunt didn’t start well. Since I was making no attempts whatsoever to conceal myself, the bird spotted me long before I was in a good position to attack and, obviously, flew away as fast as he could - fortunately (for me, not for him), his right wing seemed a little stiff which slowed him down a little.  
The chase was on.

I flapped my wings as fast as I could and quickly reached the speed of a car on a highway. Once I had reached my maximum speed, as I was flapped my wings four times each seconds, I slowly increased my altitude until I was slightly higher than him.  
Only 200 meters separated us and I was approaching fast. _Very_ fast. I was a Spitfire and he was a Piper Cub. 150 meters, now. Less than ten seconds before I would, hopefully, catch him. All I had to do was to flap my wings and aim for him. Five seconds. The bird suddenly turned right in a desperate attempt to evade me but, luckily, I managed to change my direction quickly enough not to lose too much distance. Four seconds. Three. Two. He turned upside down and dove toward the ground. Fool. I was a peregrine falcon. Dives was my specialty. I turned upside down and followed him in his dive. I gained even more speed.  
One second. He had no hopes. I had my meal for today.  
Zero.  
I flared, racked my talons outward and grabbed him firmly in my claws. Sadly, I didn’t have enough speed to kill him on the impact and he was still alive to struggle desperately against my grip. I hated when it happened; it meant they were still conscious of their suffering and their inescapable death: even if they managed to free themselves, they couldn’t go far with one of their wings broken.  
I landed as soon as I could and quickly used the sharp end of my beak to sever his spine to finally put him out of his misery.

I was so happy to have caught this bird. Not because it was a particularly difficult one to catch but because of its size – roughly the size of a large pigeon. It meant that I could, without problem, satisfy my hunger – thus giving me the energy I needed to hunt efficiently – and still have some left-over for Spirit and the young falcons. Sadly, it would have to wait. I knew I didn’t have the time to eat now; I would have to bring back my prey and hide it somewhere until I found the time to pluck it and see how he tasted like.  
I grabbed my meal in my talons and flew back to the barn. With some luck, I would find a decent cache there or convince Cassie to store my meal wherever they kept the rats they fed to their unlucky prisoners. 

* * *

 

When I was roughly 500 meters away from my destination, Tobias flew out of the Rehab center and headed toward me. Twelve seconds later, we were already close enough to use thought-speak between us.  
<We decided to go fetch it now. They should fly out in any moment. >  
<Do you know if there’s any crow around here? I’m tempted to hide my prey until I find the time to eat but… well, I guess you know how crows are. > I asked just as I realized that, since I would need to bring the prey to my nest anyway, I might as well do it while I would show them the way to my old territory instead of hiding it somewhere. Crows might still try to take my prey by force on our way there but, at least, they would need to fight for it.  
<Yeah, there’s quite a few. It would be safer to keep it with you. >

Soon after, five birds – a peregrine falcon, a bald eagle, two ospreys and a harrier - went out of the barn before flying toward Tobias and me. One notable thing in their flight pattern was that they never got close to each other – probably to avoid raising any suspicions from the humans.  
A few tens of seconds later, Tobias and I were flying with them as I showed the way toward my old territory. They were probably expecting me to show them exactly where the cube was and, unless they thought I could easily transport it to wherever they planned to keep it, they would likely want to land near it. Unfortunately for them, it couldn’t happen. The cube was inside the nest Spirit and I shared – right next to the two juveniles we were taking care of since the last few weeks. It would be impossible for them to get anywhere near the nest – let alone inside it.  
I had no other options but to lead them somewhere else in my old territory and fetch the cube myself – excluding Spirit and the two juveniles, I was the only bird on earth able to get inside the nest without being attacked, killed and eaten (in that order). Moreover, I didn’t really want them near the nest. Just because they were humans – or andalite in Aximili’s case – didn’t meant I trusted more than any other bird I met everyday.  
At best, I would trust them with my food but, even then, it was only because I knew from experience that humans weren’t fond of eating wild prey when their body were still hot and, consequently, wouldn’t eat my kill as soon as my back would be turned; anyway, worse case scenario, I knew where I could hide my preys where they couldn’t find it.

<Since we’re all within thought-speak range, who’s who? > I asked them as soon as they were close enough to “hear” me < I don’t know if it’s just me doing something wrong but I can’t tell where the… thought-sound (?) is coming from so, apart Tobias and Jake, I have no idea which one of you morphed which bird. >  
< You’re not doing anything wrong, it’s normal. Marco and I are the ospreys, ax is the northern harrier and Rachel is the bald eagle. >  
I had to admit, I was a little jealous of Rachel. Bald eagles were beautiful and dangerous; given the occasion, I would definitively transform into one for an hour or so to see how being such a majestic bird felt like – unfortunately, if I had to physically touch one to be able to become one, my chance of doing so without dying in the attempt were zero.  
< If I may ask, why did you chose to morph the same osprey? If you can choose any animal you touch, why not touch two _different_ ospreys so you can be differentiated from each other?  >  
< We only had this one when we acquired it and we don’t really feel the need to have two different ospreys morphs. >  
< I guess I’ll have to trust you on that. Anyway, if everyone’s ready, we could go fetch that blue cube now. > I said as I turned toward what used to be my territory.

Nothing was said during much of our travel. It suited me fine. I was used to fly this way: with nothing around to bother you.  
Alas, after three minutes of flight, I had to break the silence. If Aximili was telling the truth, I had the possibility of becoming a human again and I couldn’t skip such an opportunity just because I preferred to fly undisturbed.  
<So, about that morphing thing. You said I could transform into any animal I touched. Do I only need to physically touch the animal or do I need to do something when I’m touching it? >  
<Touching is not enough. You need to focus on his DNA while you’re touching the animal. > Tobias answered.  
<And the “any animal” part. Does it include all animals in the biological sense of it or is it “animal” in the sense that it’s everyone in the animal kingdom except the species the humans consider to be highly intelligent compared to the others? >  
< It’s in the biological sense. > Cassie informed me < But we have a rule against morphing sentient animals without their consent. >  
Typical human. Always priding themselves into thinking they were objectively superior to every other species.  
< Good to know. Speaking of morphing, my old nest is on that sky scrapper with the air conditioner on the roof. There’s a delivery truck next to it. > I looked around to see if they were all close enough to hear me. < So... uh… just go there while I’m storing my meal in a cache somewhere and don’t worry about people seeing you up there. Nobody ever looks at the top of this building at this time of the day. >  
I turned portside and waited until they were all perching next to the big white cube that used to blow warm air on me – back when I was living on my own instead of protecting the eyases like I should. Once they finally landed, I headed toward one of my cache – one that was, of course, out of their sight – and hid my future meal there. I then took off and flew in the direction of the small group of birds occupying my ancient nest.

<Well, welcome to my old nest. > I said in, a joking tone, as I killed my speed and landed next to them < There’s a nice updraft on the side of the building facing the sea if you want one and, if you’re cold, the air conditioner unit give a warm breeze on its side. > I smiled inside myself at the thought of the days where I was still an amateur at “falcon life” – the time where I was grossed out by the thought of eating a tasty prey freshly killed and still warm. < So, just make yourself at home. I wish I could offer you some gulls for refreshment but I can’t really afford it. Prey is a bit too scarce to my taste. >  
None of them laughed. Either they didn’t found my little joke funny or either they thought I was serious.

<Joke aside, you’ll need to wait here for a few minutes while I fetch the cube. > I looked at Jake in the eyes. < Before you complain, it’s not an option. I left the device in Spirit’s nest and there’s no way any of you can get in his nest without being attacked. > I took a short pause to be sure they fully understood I wasn’t joking anymore. < And, since prey is starting to be scarce and he has two birds to feed, you will probably end up getting killed and eaten. > Another pause. I didn’t want to have their deaths on my conscience. < I don’t know if morphing heals injuries but, even if it does, you won’t survive the attack since you will be dead before you successfully morph back to humans – and that’s assuming you have the opportunity to morph in the first place. Most of the time, the preys are dead before they hit the ground or even realize what hit them. >  
< Spirit is the father of those eggs you took care of, I assume? What make you think he will let you go in the nest? Just because you took care of his eggs doesn’t mean he will ignore you. > Jake asked in a calm voice, seemingly oblivious of the fact that I was still taking care of the Spirit’s offspring. I had to keep it that way.  
< I just know, ok? I went deep inside his territory at several occasions and he never attacked me. > I said just as I took off to go back home; hopefully, getting that cube of their would distract them from asking more questions.

The whole family was in the nest when I landed, along with some leftovers – I _think_ it was the remains of a crow. For a few moments, I wondered if I was flying straight into a trap; for all I knew, they were on the yeerk’s side and were simply waiting for me to bring the cube to get rid of the “human” they failed to kill two months ago.  
No. It wouldn’t make sense. If their plan was to get rid of me, they wouldn’t have saved me in the first place. Beside, if they wanted to kill me and take the cube, a direct attack on the nest would be far easier and faster: even if the young falcons magically learned to fly and fight, we would still be outnumbered 6 to 4 and they had some serious raptor morphs; we were no match for them. Of course, it didn’t mean I would let them invade the nest without a fight. Spirit, Beatrice and Colin were my family: if they attacked the nest or tried to hurt the birds who had welcomed me in the avian world, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill the whole lot of them.

Colin flapped his wings for a few seconds, as if he was about to take off. He had grown up so quickly. I gave him a week – at worse – before he would separate himself from the ground for the first time. Soon after that, maybe a week or two, he would taste the marvelous pleasure of sustained flight for the first time in his life.  
I would have to tell the small group of humans/alien that I couldn’t help them with the yeerks. With the falcons about to fly, I didn’t have a lot of free time – especially since I still had to take care of Jacque. Beside, I didn’t really cared if the humans lost. I wasn’t one anymore. Sure, I would try to prevent the invasion if I could but I wouldn’t take a lot of risk to do so.

Unless…

Maybe some of them would want to infest other animals than a human? Maybe some of them would prefer to fly rather than infest a human for their whole life? If it was the case, it wouldn’t be hard for them to capture innocent birds and keep them in a cage so they could be infested each time a yeerk wanted to fly.  
I couldn’t bear the idea of such a thing happening to Spirit, Beatrice or Colin. They would be prisoners of their own body and their rare moments of “freedom” would be passed in a cage probably too small to move their wings. A whole life in a raptor center was a paradise compared to that.  
I couldn’t, for any reasons, let the yeerks win. I had to protect my family. I had to protect the avian world; the world I now belonged in. Birds were meant to live in total freedom without restrains of any kind. Depriving them of that freedom was… I don’t know… There was no word I could think of to describe how _disgusting_ it was.  
Even Jacque did not deserved to be captured by the yeerks – and I do not say this lightly.

I had no choice but to fight the yeerks. I had to protect the three birds that was my family. Back in the days where I was still thinking I was a human, I had vowed to protect them as much as I could and, later, I had tacitly vowed to do so a second time by taking care of them with Spirit. I had to protect them from the threat the yeerks posed, like any birds worth of that name would do when their chicks were in danger.  
Beside, the yeerks were just like any other predators – they just stole the body of their prey instead of killing them. And when predators dared to enter my territory or even acted as if they considered attacking my nest or my family, I chased them away and killed them if I had to.

I would fight the yeerks. I would fight them just like I fought any other predators trying to hurt my family and I wouldn’t stop fighting until the yeerks would cease to be a threat. Whether it would be because they had all fled somewhere else or because they had all died during the fight was _their_ decision.

I didn’t care if the small group waiting for me needed – or wanted – my help.  
With or without them, I would fight the yeerks.  
For my family.


	21. Homo Sapiens

**author note: I'm still alive!  
I know it's been a long time since I last updated this but, unfortunately, these last weeks have been quite busy and I didn't have a lot of time to write. :(**

* * *

 

<I want to fight> I said with my left talon still on the cube <I want to fight against the yeerks with you. > I turned toward Jake and asked what was probably the most difficult question I would ask today. < Now, I know I’m asking you something big, but could I touch one of you? Passing as a human could be helpful, sometime. >  
Other than Tobias, who was preening his feathers, no one moved or said anything to me. It was obvious – and understandable – that they needed some time to think before coming up with an answer.  
I didn’t liked to stand there and wait while I could easily leave and go back home with my family; there was too much “suspense”: their answer would make the difference between having allies to talk to and having to fight the invasion alone.  
Unfortunately, I didn’t have much choice. I had to protect my family from the yeerks and protecting them meant waiting for the answer. On the bright side, I was used to waiting.

< Let’s get back to the barn first, before a controller spot us. > Jake said before looking at the cube < You think you can bring that back with you? >  
I looked at the cube. Its weight wasn’t much of a problem since I carried heavier prey on a (nearly) daily basis; its size, however, was a bigger issue. Even bringing it here from my nest had been a challenge and the flight had only lasted a minute and a half. If I put the required effort, I could _probably_ carry it all the way to the barn but it would certainly be difficult; not to mention that it would slip out of my grip each time we would encounter a wind gust.  
<It would be possible. > I answered before looking at the (large) talons of the bald eagle < But it would be far easier if you carried it since you have bigger talons than me. Mind if you take it? >  
I pushed the cube toward her as she shook her head in a very human-like way and nervously stepped back when she grabbed it with her talons; bald eagles were twice my size and seeing them from that close made me extremely nervous – nervous enough to takeoff and fly in circle thirty meters above them so that I was close enough to thought-speak with them but high enough to profit from the comforting safety of the sky.  
< Is there anything else to do or we can go to the barn now? > I asked, hoping we would get there quickly. Thought it was less than two months since I had become a peregrine, I had already forgot how it was to be a human and I couldn’t wait to turn into one.  
After Jake gave a negative answer to the first part of the question we took off – with a five minutes interval – and turned toward the barn. Unlike my previous flight with them, the return trip had virtually no silent moment. During the few minutes we spent flying toward the barn, I had been given a nearly complete briefing about what I had to know before joining them. More importantly – for me, at least – Aximili had explained how I could execute what was called a “frolis maneuver” that would allow me to “mix the DNA” of the four humans in order to have a human form that wouldn’t be a perfect copy of one of the teenagers.

 

Once Rachel had hidden the cube, we all landed in the barn and everyone, excluding Tobias and I, demorphed to their natural form. Soon after, Aximili had morphed into a human morph that, oddly, possessed some similitudes with all the other teenagers; as if someone had been tasked to make a “3D painting” of a human body by using the four teenagers as models.  
After sitting down, the four humans placed their right hand at a height I could easily reach with my claws and informed me they were ready to be “acquired” – as they said. If I managed to pull the frolis maneuver – as Aximili called it – I would have a human form that would, like him, possess many similarities with the four humans.  
Did I really want that? I would become a human, yes, but not the human I used to be. I wouldn’t have the same height, the same face, the same hair color, the same skin color and, biologically speaking, the same age. While I used to be an 18 years old adult, I would have the body of a teenager.  
Anyway, this wasn’t important. Whether I wanted it or not, I had to have a human form, even if the said form would be completely different to the one I had a few months ago.  
If it could help my family, I had to do it.

 

I jumped off the rafters and gently touched down next to them after a smooth glide. In maybe ten or twenty seconds, I would have acquired them and, a few minutes later, I would be a human for the first time since I had begun my new life.  
< I just need to touch you and focus on your DNA, right? >  
“Yes. There’s nothing else to do.” Jake confirmed.  
I looked at my powerful wings and at the distinctive black and white pattern on my chest. Soon, in a few minutes, long arms ending with human hands would replace the former and a pink human flesh devoid of any pattern would replace the latter.  
But I had to do it. I had to protect my family.  
I placed my talon on the hands of the four teenagers and “concentrated on their DNA” until I had “acquired them”. Now came the hardest part. I had to do the frolis maneuver and become someone I had never been.  
I flew at the back of the barn and landed in an unoccupied horse stall where I could transform into a human without being seen by the others. I took a last look at my beloved wings and lay down on my back. It was time to become a human for the first time since I had woken up as a bird nearly fifty days ago.  
I had to do it.  
For Spirit, Beatrice, Colin and Antoine.

 

I closed my eyes and did what Aximili had instructed me. I pictured the four humans and imagined them merging together to form the human body I expected to have – apparently it allowed me to have some control over the result of the frolis maneuver. As I maintained my focus on the “draft” I had in mind, I heard weird noises coming from my body and felt the ground slip under my body as I grew up in size.  
I was becoming human.  
I was losing my wings, my feathers and virtually everything that made me a bird.  
Then, after a few interminable minutes, it was finished. What I had thought as an impossible dream during the first weeks of my falcon life had come true.  
I had a human body.

The first thing that hit me was the smell. As I took my first breath, I was suddenly flooded with overpowering odors coming from everywhere. The animals. The various products used to heal the animals. The food they served to the unfortunate injured.  
I could smell everything. A few minutes ago, my sense of smell was virtually inexistent and now… I had passed from an odor-less world to a world filled with various odors overwhelmingly strong. I couldn’t believe that dogs – or any other animals – could have a better sense of smell. I couldn’t even imagine that a better nose could even exist in the first place.  
Then, as a poor hawk decided to screech (if you’re curious, she was warning me not to approach her), it was the turn for the sense of hearing to hit me. This time, it wasn’t because it was incredibly sensitive but because it was… pathetic. There was no other ways to put it; sounds that I would normally hear without trouble was now barely audible, at best. Patterns, rhythms, pitches and tones I could normally differentiate without thinking about it was now one big mess of noises – it was so messy that I wouldn’t even able to tell one screech from another if two raptors talked at the same time. That I had managed to live most of my life with such a pathetic hearing without troubles was incomprehensible. Compared to my normal hearing, I was practically deaf right now.   
Aware that opening my eyes would prevent me from getting used to this new human body – as the eyesight would be so radically different to what I was used to that I wouldn’t be able to focus on anything – I fought the urge to look at my surrounding.  
I moved my feet a little, followed by my legs, my arms and my fingers. Not that it was particularly difficult for me, but I wanted to be sure I completely remembered which muscle did what. Once it was done, maybe ten seconds later, it was the time to open my eyes and see the world with humans eyes. I tried to remember how it was; just to prepare myself a little.  
All I could recall was having only one fovea instead of two, lacking that third eyelid allowing me to fly without blinking constantly and being able to move my eyes. The rest wasn’t memory but theory. I knew my eyesight wouldn’t be as great as my normal one, but I couldn’t tell by how much. I would have to see it by myself. I took a deep breath – realizing how inefficient my lungs were in my human form – and opened my eyes.

 

I was shocked.  
My eyesight was a lot worse than I had imagined. I could only see something clearly if it was in front of me. I was unable to see quick movements like I used to and I couldn’t see as much colors as before. It was like when I had woken up as a falcon: the differences with my previous body were too radical and sudden to be properly described. This time, however, there was something more: I was losing something my life depended on; without my keen eyesight and my wings, I was virtually a dead bird – fortunately, I could regain both of these in just a few minutes.  
Once I had finally managed to calm down a little, I moved my eyes in some unnatural fashion to look at my new human body and… saying it was weird wouldn’t be exact.  
I can’t really think of a way to fully describe how it felt. It was… I don’t know. Like if I was discovering for the second time something I had never experienced. Like if I could remember myself having such a vision before and yet being unable to correctly recall memories associated with it. Even now, when I had a human vision, I was unable to remember my life trough human’s eyes. Every time I tried, the small details – such as the color of a passing car – would become “mixed” with my falcon perspective. In this example, the car’s color would look like how I would see it now – with my wider visible light spectrum and my keener eyesight – instead of how I used to see it as a human.  
It took me a good minute to become used to this vision and another minute to get used to moving my eyes in their orbits – After a month and a half as a falcon, doing this seemed weird and unnatural to me.  
Now, for the last “sprint”. I had to look at my new human body. I took a deep breath – as if I had any other choices with whatever inefficient lungs humans had – and braced myself for the shock I was about to endure. Quickly, without letting myself hesitate too much, I moved my eyes toward the rest of my human body.

 

I was speechless. Looking at my naked body – apparently, turning into a human didn’t gave the clothes – created the same feeling of “not being myself” I had felt when I had woken up on my apartment’s roof 48 days ago.  
My precious feathers that kept me warm during the cold nights were gone. My glorious wings that allowed me to fly and dive on my preys were no longer there and, as a replacement, I had arms and fingers. My knees that used to bend backward so I could land and/or catch preys more easily were now bending forward. My feet couldn’t be bent like my claws once could. My sharp talons I used to kill and eat were something of the past – now replaced by some little soft toes.  
I was no longer a bird.  
I could no longer fly for I had no wings, I could no longer stay warm since my feathers were gone, I could no longer land somewhere without falling because my knees now bent forward, I could no longer kill my preys because my talons were no more and, even if I managed to kill one, I wouldn’t be able to eat it as my solid beak was now a soft mouth that wouldn’t even harm a small passerine.

 

“I’m naked.” I said in a voice that had never been mine – nor as a falcon, nor as a human. Oddly, it felt stranger to talk like this, with a human voice, than using thought-speech. With thought-speech, you were more or less _thinking_ of what you wanted to say. But _talking_ with a voice I couldn’t even recognize when I was used to screech to communicate? That was disturbing.  
“It’s normal.” Jake said, “You can only morph skin-tight clothes and, even then, it take some practice.”  
“You know, I don’t think I can be a full member of your group. It’s not that I don’t want to help you. It’s just that… I lack the time to fully commit myself.” I said as I looked at where my powerful wings should have been. “So, just see me as some auxiliary force or something like that.” I looked at where my talons should have been and at my knees that bent in the wrong direction. It all felt… wrong. Even when I was still a human, several weeks ago, I had a different body.  
This… was just too much. I couldn’t take it anymore. Being grounded inside the place where I had been kept prisoner for a long time and being unable to fly was more than I could handle for now.  
I closed my eyes and focused on my real –falcon – body. Slowly, I felt myself becoming smaller and smaller as I turned back into myself. After roughly two minutes of hearing strange noises, the metamorphosis was complete and I had turned back into a bird of prey. I didn’t waste time and, using the wings I finally had back, flew in the rafters next to Tobias. It felt so good to be able to fly again.

 

<So, as I said, I don’t have enough time to fully commit myself. > I was tempted to lie and say it was because preys were too scarce or that I had to protect my numerous caches against the crows – both would be true to a certain extent – but I knew it was a bad idea. They knew how I looked like and they could turn into birds: it would only take them a few days – at best – to find out I was living with Spirit and casually took care of two adorable falcons. Telling the truth was a better option if I didn’t want to fight alone.  
< You see, when I woke up to discover I had become a falcon, I had no idea of what had happened. All I knew was that I had no choice but to adopt a falcon lifestyle if I didn’t want to die and... I won’t bore you with details but, long story short, I ended up taking care of Spirit’s eyases while you were healing him; at the time, I desperately needed something that would make me feel “human”. A few days later, when their father came back, he didn’t attacked me nor did he chased me away. Since it felt like it was the only link to whatever humanity I had left and that I needed something to do with my life, I decided to stay and take care of the eyases with Spirit. > _Liar. You stupidly fled like a coward and only came back after Antoine was murdered._ <So, yeah. Between hunting enough prey to feed the young falcons, chasing off the occasion crow out of our territory and other numerous other aspect of my falcon life, I don’t have a lot of free time. >  
Should I mention how I planned to kill Jacque? Maybe. If I died, they would know the reason of my sudden disappearance and wouldn’t waste time and resources to try to find it out. Sure, they might try to prevent me from attacking but, let’s face it, it’s not like they could capture me easily. After all, I virtually spent all my time out of reach of anything that couldn’t fly; the only way for them to stop me would be to wait until I flew out of my territory and try to surprise me even if I could easily spot preys kilometers away from me.  
Moreover, I didn’t want to die alone. I didn’t want my death to be just a hypothesis to explain why I couldn’t be found anywhere. I wanted to die knowing that somebody would know I had died and _why_ I was dead. And, maybe, if I died, they might accept to help Spirit take care of Beatrice and Colin. Of course, I couldn’t expect them to live with him 24/7 like I did but, perhaps, they could agree to make sure my family didn’t ran out of food or to heal them whenever they were injured. In any case, it was worth a shot.  
< And that’s especially true these days because I still have to take care of the owl I fought last time. >

 

Cassie was the first to react. According to her, even if taking care of the birds was something I could be very proud of, I had to remember I was still a human – even if I had the body and the lifestyle of a falcon – and that I shouldn’t risk my own life to protect the birds from an owl that probably didn’t even posed a threat in the first place. Sure, she knew great horned owls were predators and that they sometime attacked falcons but, and I quote, “that [didn’t meant] they attacked every falcons in sight” and, always according to her, “the owl [was] too far from [my] territory to really pose a threat.”   
Honestly, that sickened me. How could she not understand when she helped her parents take care of injured animals on a regular basis? It’s not like I was talking about some very specific and extremely obscure aspect of my life! It was just common sense that attacking a falcon’s eyas would get you attacked! What was so complicated in the fact that, if you killed a chick, you would get tracked and probably killed by the parents? What was she thinking? That just because you weren’t killed the same night you would murder the innocent 5 days old bird, it meant you could get away with it? Granted, I hadn’t explicitly told them that Jacque had murdered Antoine, but that was obvious! What, did they really think I was stupid enough to go after a great horned owl without provocation?

 

< Listen. If it weren’t for that _bastard_ I would be taking care of _three_ birds, not _two_. So, yes, that stupid _coward_ is definitively a threat and, no, he’s definitively not too far to be dangerous.  > Cassie excluded, none of them seemed to understand that I _really_ cared about the young falcons; even then, she obviously had no idea that I saw them as family. < And, for that reason, I have to get rid of him before he strike again. The juveniles are going to fly by themselves soon so the matter has to be resolved _now_ before it’s too late. If that owl is enough of a coward to attack a bird that can’t even move, he will have no problems with attacking a bird that is still learning how to fly. >

“I’m really sorry about your loss, Hayabusa, but you are still human even if you have the body of a falcon.” She gave an uncomfortable look to Tobias. “ I know you care deeply about the birds, but you can’t win against a great horned owl.”

< No. You’re wrong. That’s what you don’t seem to understand. I’m not a human anymore. Sure, I used to be a human and I still possess my memories, but the fact is that I’m a peregrine falcon, now. And, let’s face it, even if I still considered myself to be partly human and wanted to become a human again, there would be no ways for me to be one on the long term. My human form is not the one I used to have several weeks ago. That basically mean I don’t have anything that could prove my identity: no ID, no documents, no names, no country of origin, no parents, no friends, no previous occupations or scholarship, no pictures and no acquaintances to talk in my favor. Legally speaking, my human form does not really exist. > I “walked” toward the window’s frame. I was hungry and tired and all I wanted was to go back home and finally eat the bird I had caught. < Anyway, I have to go, now. I still have to eat my last kill and Spirit could use a little help to catch a few birds before the end of the day. See you later. >   
On that, I flew out of the barn and headed back home.

On my way back, I reorganized my plans to take in account the recent events. Now that I could turn into a human, I was able to go in places I couldn’t go before – such as a library – and do things I was unable to do because of my physiology – such as reading a book. First thing first, I had to set myself a hard deadline to be sure I wouldn’t push back the fight over and over again until it was too late. Let’s say… seven days. In seven days or less, I would have fought Jacque no matter if I had to fight in the middle of a hurricane or in perfect weather.   
Second, I had to go to a library and read as much books about aerial combat and great horned owl as I could; the more I knew about these subjects, the readier I would be for the fight.   
  
Of course, I wasn’t a fool. I knew Cassie was right. I knew I would likely die – or, at least, be heavily injured – during the fight. I knew I could, at best, to kill him and have the battle end with a draw.  
But I didn’t really cared. Being killed – let it be by a hungry predator or during a fight with a competitor – was a risk I dealt with every day in my life and I had accepted it long ago; it was just part of my life and nothing could done against it.  
Anyway, fighting Jacque to death was not an option: it was mandatory. Spirit, Beatrice and Colin were my family and I owed them my life. I had to protect them from Jacque. It was my duty toward them.

I had already failed Antoine; there was no way I would fail my family for a second time.

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

“This one’s 60% off and match with the T-shirt from GAP. “ Rachel said while forcing a pair of pants in my hands.  
“But I only need _shoes_. I can morph the rest, you know?” I said, knowing no one except her would hear me thanks to the ambient noise of the mall. “Beside, you’re saving nothing. They probably inflated the price before applying the sale. “  
“Hush, Busa, I’m not letting you walk around in your morph suit.” She answered while throwing another pair of pants at me before dragging me to the cash registers.  
I forced myself to roll my eyes and didn’t argue. The sooner we would be done with this the sooner I would be outside in my real body.  
“Shouldn’t I go in the dressing room to see if they fit?” I asked while the cashier scanned the few clothes Rachel had chosen for me.  
“No need to. I know they will fit perfectly.”  
I let out a silent sight. There was no way I could escape until she would have bought everything I “needed”.  
As she handed the money to the employee, I mentally took note of the final price so I could, somehow, repay her later and forced myself to smile – something I wasn’t used to do anymore.

“And now, for the shoes.” She said while pulling me out of the store (literally).  
“Can’t we do that Wednesday? We’ve been here for the whole day.”  
“No we can’t. The shoes are only on sale until tomorrow.” This was a lost cause. Rachel was to sales what I was to pigeons. She had already planned the hunt, stalked the “prey” and decided on the best approach; she was just preparing to swoop down on the items or, in the case of the clothes she had bought me, already swooped and killed her target.  
“Yes, but I need to demorph soon if I don’t want to end up as a nothlit.”  
She looked at me as if I was interrupting her during a dive aimed at a sale she had stalked for hours and pointed at a door next to the store we had just quit.  
“Just go in that bathroom and be quick.”

After entering the public bathroom, I loudly asked if anyone was inside before locking the door behind me – no answers came back. Then, just to be extra sure, I opened the doors of each stalls one by one just in case someone was there but hadn’t answered; last thing I wanted was to deal with someone freaking out after seeing a human turn into a bird.  
As morphing – or demorphing, in this case – was not something you could control, I removed the clothes Jake had lent me and focused on the body I had since the last few weeks.  
At first, my feathers started to appear in the form of some sort of 2D tattoo all over my body – as if someone was quickly painting a perfect copy of my feathers. Then, a mere two seconds afterward, my _left_ leg started to turn from human to bird, quickly followed by my right foot – this, obviously, made it nearly impossible to keep balance and ultimately resulted in my fall. At that point, the feather “tattoo” suddenly went 3D ad formed my beloved feathers while my left arm started to shrink and melt into a wing. I couldn’t help but find it funny, in a way. So far, I had a wing/arm on my left, a human arm on my right, my two normal legs and talons, a human torso and feathers all over my body. It was worse than a body horror movie and, unlike such a movie, I wasn’t using any special effects whatsoever. I would have forced a smile but my mouth had already turned into a hard beak while my human head was still shrinking and slowly turning from a bulky human head to a streamlined one.  
And then, it was over. I was a falcon again. I had my wings, my feathers, my beak, my claws, my eyesight and my hearing.  
<I demorphed. Turning into a human, now. > I announced to Rachel as I lay down and started to focus on the human body I never had until very recently; three minutes later, I was in my human morph again.  
I rubbed my lousy eyes, took a deep breath and slowly stood up. I didn’t really like my human form. Even if I wasn’t thinking of myself as a human at all, it was still weird to have a human body that wasn’t the one I used to have. I was used to be an 18 years old adult and now, after nearly two months as a bird, I was a teenager. My height was drastically lower, the steps I made when walking weren’t the same, my feet were smaller, my hands were nothing like before and my skin was significantly darker – heck, even the _sound_ of my footsteps wasn’t the same! But the worse was probably the voice. When I talked, I wasn’t hearing the voice I was used to. It didn’t feel like it was “my” voice but rather someone else’s voice – the creepy thing was that thought-speak sounded like my “real” human voice and meant I had basically two different voices (or three, if you included the falcon one). I moaned and walked toward the sinks to wash my face as I rubbed my eyes for the second time. Now that I was used to the falcon’s eyesight, I always felt blind with this lousy human vision.  
Anyway. Time to wash my face and…  
Someone else was in the bathroom. Somehow, I hadn’t seen him nor heard him but I could see him in the mirror. I immediately turned around, ready to convince whoever was behind me to keep his mouth shut or, if it was needed, make sure he wouldn’t talk about it by using some… drastic… measures.

No one was there  
I stood there, puzzled, clueless and unable to understand. Whoever I had seen in the mirror had somehow vanished while I turned around.  
It took a few seconds to understand the obvious.  
There never was another person. I was alone in this bathroom. What I had seen in the mirror wasn’t some other person.  
It was my reflection.  
I looked at the mirror, fascinated by what had become my human body. I felt just like the time where, days after becoming a falcon, I had seen my reflection for the first time. I knew I was looking at myself but my brain wouldn’t accept it. It was, at the same time, a reflection of myself and the reflection of… someone else; which, in this case, was true since this body was just an avatar I used to pass as a human. Pushed by curiosity (and because these lousy eyes couldn’t see a thing), I slowly approached the mirror and understood I was wrong. The worse difference between the human I used to be and the one I was right now wasn’t the voice: it was the face. My nose was, relatively to the dimension of the head, smaller than before. My lips were slightly bigger. My eyebrows were significantly longer. But the very worse facial difference was the eyes. I didn’t know why, but of all the differences, it was the eyes that made me feel the most “un-myself”. In this body, my eyes were sky-blue – which, in my opinion, was quite ironic considering I was a bird – but when I was still a human, my eyes were completely black.  
No. That was the color of my _falcon_ eyes. At the time, I had green eyes. Or not. Now that I thought about it, I was quite sure they were brown. Or black. Unless it was blue?  
Great. I didn’t remember what color my eyes were. Would the rest of my memories follow?  
Would I, over the time, slowly forget what I used to look like until, one day, I wouldn’t even be able to tell if I was a man or a woman? Would the loss go so far I would forget I used to be a human at all?  
I wasn’t even sure I wanted to know the answer. The idea of losing every single memories of what I used to look like was beyond terrifying; it was like if I would lose myself entirely. But I had to stay strong. My family needed me and I would attack Jacque tomorrow. I had to remain focused on that goal and _only_ that goal. I would have all the time I want to worry about memory loss after Jacque would be dead.  
I took a few deep breaths to calm down and donned the clothes I had borrowed. I took another breath and put the shoes on before going out of the bathroom to meet with Rachel and walk to the shoes store.

As soon as we were inside the store, I searched for the nearest bench and sat there while Rachel started to look for the “perfect pair of shoes”; unlike Cassie, Rachel wanted the clothes to match perfectly with each other in every situation imaginable.  
In itself, it wasn’t a problem for me. It didn’t change anything if the clothes I wore matched and I was used to perch at the same place without doing anything for a long time. The problem was that it made shopping inefficient.  
I was used to do things quickly and efficiently. When I wanted to catch a prey, I didn’t waste time and went straight for the kill. When I travelled from point A to point B, I didn’t waste energy and used whichever route was the most efficient. When I had to fight a crow, I didn’t thought of doing it with style but used whatever worked the best without caring if it made me look silly or like an ace.  
This was the same with shopping. If it were just for me, I would have done like I always did and aimed for speed and efficiency. I would just buy the clothes I needed, take the first pair of shoes fitting my size and it would be done. At worse, it would have taken half an hour if the mall were crowded. However, thanks to Rachel, I was forced to stay put while she searched for matching apparels; it was like if, in my real form, I was forced to walk on the sidewalk as if I were a human while I could just fly and get wherever I wanted a hundred time faster.

“Here, try these.”  
I jumped in surprise when I heard Rachel’s voice behind me. Thanks to the so-called hearing of my human morph, I hadn’t heard her approach. Barely able to believe I had passed most of my life with a similar hearing, I turned around to see Rachel holding a pairs of shoes.  
“How much did you get?” I asked as I was removing my shoes to try the one Rachel was holding. “Ten percent?”  
As if the idea of getting “only” ten percent off was ridiculous, she produced a chuckle loud enough to be heard with human ears.  
“I got forty. Now, stand up and see if you’re comfortable in them.”  
I walked around the store for a minute. The shoes could be a little larger but were not too small to be usable. And, anyway, even if they were too small, I didn’t want to stay in the mall any longer. I still had to go at the library to prepare myself for tomorrow’s fight and malls were not a place for birds – not even the “pet” birds.  
“They fit perfectly.”  
It was a lie, yes, but I wanted to see the sky and feel the wind on my wings.

I sat down and swapped the shoes Rachel wanted to buy with the one Jake had lent me.  
“I know I’m asking for a lot, but can I go now?” I looked around me to see if anyone was near enough to hear us. With human’s ears, I would certainly be unable to hear someone’s breath even if he was standing right behind me. “I still need to go to the library to prepare myself for the fight.”  
“You haven’t done it yet?”  
“Preys were a bit scarce these past days and I couldn’t find the time to go to the library without going hungry; which, obviously, isn’t very recommended before fighting to the death with someone. And now that it’s starting to look better, I was planning to attack tomorrow before the young falcons take flight and put themselves at risk.” I forced myself to smile – if I wanted to pass as a human, facial expressions was something I would have to learn again – and waited for her to answer.  
“You can go. And stop smiling like that, it’s creepy.”  
I shot up and eagerly walked out of the store after thanking her in thought-speak and immediately headed to the nearest exit. Because humans were ridiculously slow, it took me at least two minutes to reach the exit but, at last, I pushed the exit door.

Finally I was outside. I could breath fresh air, see the sky and there was no roof to restrain me. I took a deep breath to let the fresh air fill my lungs. I would gladly stay here to relax a little while the wind caressed my body but there wasn’t enough time. If I wanted to eat correctly tonight and spend enough time at the library to be ready, I had to get moving.  
Two months ago, I would have enjoyed this. The library wasn’t far and easily reachable by foot. If I had my old body, it would take me 15 minutes to go there; it would have been a short and pleasant walk during a nice sunny day. Basically a good occasion to relax, get your mind out of whatever worries you had and enjoy the weather.  
Then, I became a bird and discovered flight. Walking wasn’t pleasant anymore.

Walking now meant I was forced to be on the ground where I was the most vulnerable. It meant noises all around me, each indicating a possible threat; it meant buildings and humans obstructing my view; it meant being unable to turn my head quickly to look around me - both because it would look weird and because my head couldn’t turn fast enough for that; it meant being unable to look directly behind me without losing precious seconds to turn my back. Walking had become a mix of everything I had learned to dislike in the past few weeks.  
The only thing that prevented me from demorphing and finding some convoluted way to carry my clothes and shoes in the air without being spotted was that morphing required a significant amount of time and energy; otherwise, if morphing was instantaneous, I would already be in an dark alley trying to figure out how to bring clothes with me. Having no options but to walk, I stared at the sky for a few seconds – catching sight of a beautiful cumulous cloud – and made my way to the library.

The library, in a way, was worse than the mall. Granted, the library had a window to see outside and was less crowded than the mall – both of these were quite a plus for me – but one “detail” ruined it all: it was much smaller.  
As much as I complained about the mall, the hallway were mostly empty and there were a lot of large open spaces in which I could have fly in without problems. The library, on the other claw, had none. It was a tiny area filled with bookcases that prevented any flight longer than ten or twenty seconds; it was nothing more than a cage. It wasn’t something I couldn’t handle but it was still stressful to be in this extremely restricted airspace when I was used to a territory with dimensions measured in kilometers. Long story short, I didn’t want to stay more than necessary and asked a librarian to direct me without wasting time.  
Unlike what I would have done before, I didn’t roam around to look at the books’ covers but went directly to the appropriate sections of the library and took a few books that looking promising; sadly, since the book selection for aerial combat and great horned owls was rather small, it meant I only had one book for each subjects when I sat on a table to read them – plus a third book on peregrine falcons, written by Timothy Mallard, I had taken out of curiosity.

After hesitating for a short moment, I decided to read the book covering the combat maneuvers, written by Carl Harmon. I didn’t bother to read the history-oriented and the science-oriented portions of the book and directly skipped to the seventh chapter.  
I almost laughed when I saw the listed maneuvers.  
I already knew most of them. Sure, I didn’t know the _name_ of each maneuver, but I did know how to execute them. When I thought about it, it made sense. After all, as a falcon, I was chasing birds every day to feed and often fought with other predators: it was inevitable that I had developed some tactics, maneuvers and strategies. It was also inevitable that the maneuvers and tactics I had developed – or learned by observing Spirit – were similar to those I was looking at: both a fighter pilot and a falcon aimed to strike their opponent from above or from their six O’clock. And yet, even if it was perfectly normal, I still found it funny to think I had learned several combat maneuvers – such as the Scissors and Yo-Yo – without realizing it. It was moments like these that reminded me how much my life had changed.  
Jubilating at how I wouldn’t stay in the library as long as I thought, I closed the book to look at the one about the great horned owls – written by Anthony Paxton.  
When I reached the table of content, I understood I wouldn’t pass that much time on that book either. It didn’t really covered what I would find the most interesting – not that I really knew what information could help me that I didn’t already know – and, honestly? I wasn’t sure it would do any good to read as much as possible. I already had the experience and knowledge to know in which situations I had the advantage and the fight was to take place in less than 16 hours. There was no way I could learn all the relevant information in time. I would only tire myself at the worse moment.  
Nevertheless, I still read the most promising pages before setting the book aside.  
  
Which left me with the book on peregrine falcons. Just like the two others books, I ignored a significant portion of it; after all, it mainly covered the _behavior_ of peregrine falcons which was, for obvious reasons, a subject I was very familiar with. Nonetheless, there were, apparently, a lot of things I didn’t about my species. For starter, I was quite impressed to see some fellow peregrines had territories as large as 100 km 2 and much surprised to discover we were a migratory species able to travel about 27 000 kilometers per years and that, during migration, we could travel 500 kilometers – the equivalent of 12 marathons – each _days_ ; also, what I thought to be backward bending knees were actually elongated foot bones.  
But the best thing I learned, one that pleased beyond measure, was that I had raised Beatrice and Colin like a real falcon would have. I had failed Antoine but provided Beatrice and Colin the care they deserved. Even if it wasn’t even noon, I knew it would be the best news of the day as I closed the book and finally went out of the library.

Learning how far I could fly in a single day had made walking even worse than before. It had made me realize how free I truly was as a bird. I could go wherever I wanted whenever I wanted and nothing could stop me, not even the distance: with 500 kilometers a day, I could go anywhere in the US (excluding Alaska) in less than ten days no matter where I started from. Basically, I was free and nothing blocked me.  
Walking, however, was the exact opposite. When I walked, everything blocked me. While I was used to fly straight to my destination, walking meant I had to stop at every stop signs and red lights, stick to the sidewalk, only cross the road at some specific places, avoid every building and make a thousand detours to get anywhere.  
I had been a bird for less than two months and, already, I was considering walking as something unpleasant.  
Flight, however, was something else.  
Flight was the best thing that ever happened to me. Since the very day I woke up as a falcon and touched the sky for the first time, my love for flight had never decreased. I could still feel the excitement of diving faster than a racecar, the relaxing feel of lazily circling inside a thermal and the sense of security of being above every dangers.  
This was why I wanted to spend a few hours by myself. Tomorrow would be the day I would willingly risk my life for two little birds I was taking care of. For all I knew, this could be the last day I could fly without a specific goal in mind.  
Hence, I spent the rest of the day flying around aimlessly. I did nothing but fly around in my territory – diving occasionally for the fun of it. I only put an end to this relaxing activity at sunset, when it was time to think about going to “sleep”.  
But, before sleeping, there was something I wanted to do. Though, I was a falcon, I still had the mind of a human; if I had to die tomorrow, I wanted someone to know it.  
I wanted someone to know Christopher would be dead, if only to prevent everyone from searching a body that no longer existed.

There was only one way I could make sure I wouldn’t be forgotten: seeing one of the teenagers and explain how I might be living the penultimate day of my life. The choice for whom I would talk to was easy: Tobias and Cassie. Of all the people I could talk to without getting killed, they were the two persons who would understand me the most. Tobias, just like me, used to be a human and was now a raptor. He understood more than anyone why I had decided to take care of the eggs. As for Cassie, she seemed to have some sort of gift to understand people at a deeper lever than anyone – sometime, even more than the persons themselves; she wouldn’t truly understand why I wanted to take care of the eyases when I first saw the eggs, but she would understand why I wanted to continue and why I was ready to risk my life for them.  
On top of that, they had both saved my life at some point.  
Because I wasn’t walking, I managed to reach Cassie’s home - one mile away – in a decent amount of time: less than two minutes.

“Are you Jake or Hayabusa?” She asked after I had landed in the rafters.  
<Hayabusa. > I said as I smiled inside myself. Two months ago, I would have been unable to tell the difference between Jake’s morph and my body and I would have asked the same question. Now, the differences were so obvious I almost had trouble understanding how someone couldn’t tell me from Jake.  
< I won’t be staying really long. > I knew I was rude but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stand this place. I had been imprisoned here in a miniscule cage for far too long and the sight of all those poor injured birds – all depressed from not being able to fly – was horrifying. All I wanted was to stay as little as possible.  
< All I wanted was to say thank you for saving me. > I saw her open her mouth to say something but cut her out before she could talk. <No. I mean it. One thing you have to understand is how much the six of you helped me. Back when I was transformed into a falcon, I knew nothing about the yeerks and morphing – I didn’t even knew I could use thought-speak to talk with someone. I had no idea what happened to me. All I knew was that I had no choice but to learn to live as a falcon. > I paused for a short moment; these memories weren’t that pleasant to remember. < In one day, I had passed from a human life to a life where I had to kill on a daily basis in order to feed on raw meat before it had even cooled down, fight to keep my meal and my territory and do my best to avoid becoming a meal. >  
I paused at the memories of my first days as a falcon. The days where I couldn’t believe nor accept I had been propelled in a whole new world. ~~  
~~ < You helped me more than you think. Learning what was happening to me was one of my deepest wishes, even after I had fully accepted my new life. > I knew there were a lot of things I could say – perhaps even _should_ say – but she wouldn’t understand them. There were some aspects of my past that could only be understood by Tobias; being scared of emptying a bag of bacon or panicking after seeing your reflection in a mirror were two that easily came into mind.  
< So, yeah, that’s… pretty much all I wanted to say. Please pass my thanks to the others when you get to see them. I wish I could do that myself but I really need to go see Tobias before it get dark. > I then remembered there was another reason I wanted to talk to Cassie < And if I may ask a favor, I’m going to attack the owl tomorrow so there’s a chance I won’t come back. If that happen, could you make sure nothing bad happen to the birds I take care of? > ~~~~

I flew out without waiting for an answer. Impolite, sure, but if she was to refuse, I didn’t want to know it; it would just distract me when I didn’t need any distractions. Moreover, I really wanted to get away from this twisted place and spend some time with my family.  
There was still one thing I had to do before going back home, thought. As I said to Cassie, I had to see Tobias. He had, after all, saved my life when I was chased by a Hork-Bajir (aka: Gillette). If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t have had lived to raise the young falcons in my nest.  
Since I had followed him in the past – for reasons that appeared quite ironic now – I already knew where he lived and the trip was quite shorter than I expected.

<Can I land? >  
I hadn’t bothered to announce myself. As I raptor, I knew he had spotted me a long time ago.  
<Yeah, sure. > He answered while making some place on his perch – on which I carefully landed to make sure I didn’t scare away his preys. < What do you want? > He then asked.  
<I just wanted to thank you for saving my butt. > He looked at me with his fierce hawk gaze. < And ask you a question that’s been nagging me for some time: why did you save me? >  
He continued to stare at me without saying a thing; I couldn’t tell if it was because of the surprise or because raptors weren’t the social type.  
<I mean, it was a risky move. You couldn’t know how I would react or what would happen to me afterward. I could have joined the Sharing because of the stress, get captured by the yeerks or even panic and tell everything to the wrong person. >  
He didn’t give up the silent stare. Clearly, I had touched a sensitive subject.  
<You don’t want to talk about it, do you? >  
<No, not really. >  
I could easily understand. From the little information I had gathered, Tobias hadn’t been a hawk for a long time when he had saved me. Like me, he probably did some things he wasn’t exactly proud of and didn’t want everyone on earth to know – just like I wouldn’t want everyone to know I had almost committed suicide after seeing myself in a mirror.  
I looked at the meadow he was facing and wondered if it was a good one from a hawk perspective. Wondered if he was happy with what had become his home.  
< So, I guess I’ll leave you, now. You probably have to hunt something before nightfall. > I said to him as I turned around and took off, making sure not to scare any of his preys.

Shortly after (i.e. the time it took to return to my territory), I spotted a peregrine falcon waiting in one of my old nests – more precisely, the one I had presented to the group of teenagers fighting the yeerks. It didn’t take a long time to recognize Jake and, since the only reason he could be waiting there was that he wanted to talk to me, I diverted from my original destination to meet him. ~~~~

< If you’re here to try to convince me not to attack tomorrow, you’re wasting your time. I’ll do it whether you like it or not.  > I affirmed as soon as I landed near him.  
< I’m not here for that. It’s your life and you can do whatever you want with it. > Judging by his tone, he was still pissed at me for making that choice. < I came to ask if you really wanted to fight _with us_.  >  
He paused to make a few steps toward me.  
< I know you _want_ to fight with us but we can’t have you if keep putting your life in danger like that. If you want to be with us, we must know you’ll be available when you’re needed. We can’t include you in our missions if we always have to ask if you can be there or if you will fight to the death with another bird, you understand?  >  
Somehow, I thought of what I had seen near a lake, long ago, when I was trying to find out where the Gillette that had chased me came from. Even now, the image of the poor bird with the strange injuries and the surrounding massacre in which animals had been killed for the sole crime of being there was still fresh in my memory.  
I remember swearing to stop whichever monsters had done that.

< About seven weeks ago, I flew over a lake and saw several dead animals that looked as if they were burned while they were fleeing the scene. It was the yeerks, wasn’t it? > ~~  
~~ < Yes. It was during one of our first missions. They couldn’t differentiate us from the real animals so they just shot every animal in sight. >  
Even if I was pretty sure of it before, getting the actual confirmation was like a punch in the guts. The yeerks hadn’t killed for food or for “fun”. They had killed, methodicall every single animal they could see just because they _might_ be someone in morph. The animals weren’t killed for being there but because they weren’t humans. The yeerks had killed everyone in sight not because they were acting suspiciously or because they were somewhere they shouldn’t be but simply because they were animals.  
< They’ll also do that with every species they deem worthless if they win. >  
I knew this last sentence was only said to make me join their group but, as much as I hate to say it, it was working. I didn’t care as much as I should(?) about humans anymore – mostly because I didn’t see the point of risking my life for a species that ignored me in the best time and actively tried to kill me in the worse time – but I cared deeply for my family and for the other birds.  
And the yeerks were threatening both of them.  
If they won, they would exterminate everyone who didn’t happen to be a human – for no reasons other than being considered worthless.  
I had sworn to stop the monsters responsible for the massacre at the lake and devoted my life to protect my family; the yeerks were the monsters I had sworn to stop and they also threatened my family.  
< I’ll join you. I can’t promise you I will always be available, but I can promise you I’ll make an effort. > I took a quick glimpse at the nest housing the birds I saw as family. < I can’t make any guarantees but I’ll try to be at the barn for tomorrow’s meeting. > ~~  
~~_Translation: if I’m still alive tomorrow evening, I’ll meet you at the barn._ ~~~~


	23. Farewell

I walked to the edge of the nest and looked at the two falcons behind me. I couldn’t believe how quickly they had grown. Not a long time ago, they were just two little balls of fluffiness too young to even open their eyes; they could only make their lovely chirp and raise their beaks when it was time to eat.  
And now, they were ready to take flight. And I might not be alive to see them achieve that.  
It saddened me beyond measures, of course, but I knew someone had to do it. I knew someone had to risk his life to protect them. Just like I knew that person had to fight alone, even if it increased the risk of death: that way, Beatrice and Colin would still be taken care of by someone no matter what happened.

< Nice weather today. > I told Spirit.  
I knew, of course, he wouldn’t understand me and, judging by his lack of reaction, I wasn’t even sure if he was “hearing” me, but I still wanted to talk to him. I wanted to explain him how much I owed him and that he might not see me again; without forgetting to explain how I wasn’t born falcon.

< I’m going to fight Jacque this morning. > Even if they wouldn’t understand, I made sure to use private thought-speech to “isolate” the juveniles. They were too young to hear what I was telling to Spirit. < I know where he live and, since he already killed one of us, it’s best if he’s killed before Beatrice and Colin start to fly around. > Part of me hoped Spirit could fully understand me and was able to use thought-speech. If only to know if this was the right thing to do and if he had forgiven me for not protecting Antoine.  
< As you can guess, I might not come back. I’ve trained, of course, but we both know great horned owls aren’t something to mess with. > I turned my head toward him before continuing. < So, before I go, there are some things I wanted to tell you. >  
Oddly, I feared this moment. As if what I had done was something to be ashamed of. As if I had betrayed Spirit’s trust by acting like a falcon without showing a hint of my human history. As if I had lied to him the whole time.  
< I wasn’t always a falcon. There was a time, two months ago, where I was a human. > If I wouldn’t be risking my life in a few minutes, I would have found it funny. Saying I was a falcon and _used_ to be a human came so naturally to me.  < And, actually, we already met before you came back from the Rehab center. If you remember, before you were taken away and sent there, you were hiding in a hole in the construction site. And, one night, you attacked a human who had his hand too close to you. > _Just like I would have done if I were in the same situation._ < That was I. I was the one you bit that night. > _And by doing so, you probably saved Beatrice and Colin._ < You probably didn’t know it, but the blue cube next to you was an alien device able to give the user the power to transform into any animal he touched. When you bit me, I was also touching the cube at the same time; a design error made that cube think my original form was a peregrine falcon and it decided to turn me back into my “true” form – which was, for him, a peregrine falcon. Barely a week later, I had the body of a peregrine falcon and couldn’t turn back in my human body. > _And, a few weeks later, I also had the mind of a peregrine falcon._ < All I wanted to do before leaving was to thank you for accepting me in the family. You can’t imagine how much it helped me. Back when I was still new at being a falcon, I was completely lost. This life had nothing in common with my human life and I had no ideas what to do. I didn’t know how to hunt properly, I didn’t know which birds were the best preys, which bird saw me as a prey, how to spot a good thermal or even where I could install myself to have something I could call home. >  
Looking back, now that I could really call myself a peregrine falcon, everything I had done in my first days appeared ridiculous – especially deciding to sleep on the top of my apartment’s building where I was out in the open and had no way to protect myself from predators.  
< But, taking care of the juveniles with you gave me something to hold on while I was dealing with all the stress. Without you, I would still be at lost and without future. I’m not even sure I would still be alive if it weren’t for you all. >  
I looked at the two birds behind me as they flapped their wings in a unsuccessful attempt to reach the sky. If my wings wouldn’t make it so difficult, I would be cuddling them. They were so adorable when they did that and I still remembered vividly the moment they had hatched. At the time, I was barely able to cope with all the massive changes in my life and the three beautiful eggs in the nest I was living in was the only thing keeping me alive. I was still stressed beyond imagination by what was happening, obviously, but brooding the eggs reduced that stress to a (somewhat) tolerable level.  
Then, when I had seen Antoine’s egg tooth piercing the egg, everything had changed. I had a mission. I had a purpose. I had a reason to live instead of surviving. And, most importantly, I wasn’t alone anymore.  
Soon after, before I could even realize it, they became my family and I quickly became a “pure” falcon instead of a mix between a human and a peregrine.  
And now, less than two months after Antoine’s birth, I was ready to go on a near-suicidal fight to protect his siblings; I even saw it as a duty.

< Before I go, I want you to know I love you. > I said to the three other birds in the nest. < And that, whatever happen today, I will always love you. >  
As I spread open my wings, I realized there was one last thing I had to do: acquire Spirit’s DNA. I walked next to Spirit and calmly put my right talon on his leg, careful not to alarm him.  
< You might feel weird for a few seconds but everything will be fine. > I warned him as I focused on his DNA – using my wings to make sure he wouldn’t fall off the ledge during the trance.  
There was no real reason to do this. It was just for the symbol. According to Aximili, the DNA of an acquired animal was stored in the blood vessels – meaning that Spirit’s DNA was with me, in my very lifeblood. So, in a way, it was like if Spirit would stay with me when I would leave the nest to attack Jacque; I had no way to know if Spirit wanted to fight – and hopefully kill – that owl but, if it was the case, he would do it symbolically.

< Well, I guess this is it. I have to go, now. > I told my whole family. < Again, thank you for everything and I will always love you. >  
I didn’t want to leave them. I didn’t want to risk my life. I wanted to stay with them to see them grow. I wanted to see Beatrice and Collin fly for the first time. I wanted to train them to catch their own preys. I wanted to see them catch their meal for their first time. I didn’t want to die.  
But I had no choices.  
Jacque represented a danger to them and he had to be dealt with. And, between Spirit and me, I was the one who had to go: I was the most likely to succeed and Spirit was the true father of those adorable birds. Even if I was a falcon like him, he was still better at raising the two young birds I loved so much.  
Anyway. It was time to go.  
I gave a slight node to the young birds – then to their biological father – and flew out of the nest, hoping it wasn’t be the last time I would my family.  
< Goodbye, everyone. > I said just before getting out of thought-speech range.

When I arrived at the planned battlefield, two minutes later, I perched on a tree a few hundreds meters away from Jacque’s nest. I needed some time to concentrate on what I really needed to focus on: the battle. For the moment, my mind was filled with memories about Spirit, Beatrice, Colin and, of course, Antoine. As much as I loved those memories, I knew it would only distract me during the incoming fight and I had to put them aside to focus on the battle plan I had.  
First, take a rock. Second, drop it on (or near) Jacque. Third, do a split-S. Fourth, engage the bastard,  
Rock, drop, split-S, engage.  
Rock, drop, split-S, engage.  
Rock, drop, split-S, engage.

I wish I could have a more detailed plan but I had been in enough fights to know it was impossible: aerial fights were too complicated and unpredictable to plan them. The best I could do was to remember in which situations I had an advantage over him and in which situations _he_ had the advantage – but, of course, Jacques knew that too and would also try to avoid the situation advantaging me and aim for the situations advantaging him. Anyway.  
Aerial fights with an uncertain issue were basically part of my life. This fight was just… more dangerous than usual.

I took off from the branch and grabbed a small rock in the park near Jacque’s nest. Knowing I needed some altitude, I climbed at a shallow angle – to conserve my energy –and leveled off when I was well above the treetop.  
The time had come.  
The battle I had practiced for so long.  
The battle that would only end when one – if not both – of the fighters died.  
I turned toward the bastard’s nest, gained as much speed as I could and, when I was in position, dropped the rock.  
The fight was on. There was no coming back. I had reached the point of no return.

One of us wouldn’t come back to the nest.


	24. Fighting Falcon

I watched my projectile drop like a rock (pun intended) toward my target.  
Miss. By a good 30 centimeters.  
To be honest, I wasn’t really surprised. I knew from the beginning the odds of a direct hit were low. My main goal wasn’t to hit him but to scare him into leaving his perch – which, fortunately, worked. All I had to do was to catch up with him.

Split-S. Trade altitude for speed.  
I kept my eyes – or head, since they were fixed in their orbits – on my foe and quickly planned my kill. I was slightly higher than him and much faster: a good old “dive” was the best solution.  
One second later, I was already above him.  
Time for the kill.  
I turned upside down, dove for a very short moment and missed as Jacque made a sharp turn at the last moment.  
But I didn’t care. Even when I went after pigeons (who were much worse flyers than owls), I failed quite a lot of time: missing a great horned owl in a combat situation wasn’t unexpected but expected.  
I quickly recovered from the “dive” and used my speed to pull an Immelmann and face my opponent once again. Unlike what I would have done a month and a half ago, I didn’t try to kill him right away. Sure, I was a bit higher than him and definitively faster, but I was much more experienced than I was during my first fight with him: I knew I didn’t have a lot of chance of victory in an air combat against a bird such like him – especially when said combat was taking place above a forest.  
Instead, I slowed down and simply approached him until we were both circling around each other. It wasn’t really different from the first time I had attacked him: we weren’t trying to attack the other (yet) but merely flew in circle to gauge the opponent and, occasionally, one of us would make a faint to judge the other’s reaction.  
However, the similarities ended here. Since our last encounter, I had learned the strengths and weaknesses of our respective species; I knew that, if I wanted to win, I had to bring him on the ground or, at least, displace the battlefield above the park where I wouldn’t have to worry about smacking a tree during a dive.  
I quickly evaluated my options.  
Trying to fly over there to lure him wouldn’t work. He had no interest in fighting me if I was out of his territory or didn’t steal his preys and he wasn’t stupid enough to risk his life on a pointless fight.  
Attempting to chase him toward the park wouldn’t work either. No matter how fast I would fly toward him, the actual fighting would start _before_ we would be where I wanted. Attacking right away and hope to gradually move the fight toward the playground wasn’t even an option. He was there to protect his territory and his preys: he wouldn’t chase me if, during the fight, I went over the park.  
Which left me with moving the fight _before_ attacking. We were still gauging each other and I doubted he would make the first move unless I became too aggressive; if, after each faints, I didn’t backed off as far as I was before the faint, there was a chance I could slowly make him lose terrain until we would be in the perfect battlefield (for me, that is).

Despite not being that optimistic about this plan, I tried it anyway. It was slow – mostly because I would lose a lot of ground each time he would make a faint – but I ultimately managed to bring him at the border of his territory. I knew this was the best I could do. I knew he wouldn’t go any closer to the park anymore. Both his faints and defensive moves were more aggressive, he didn’t gave as much ground as he used to and just his posture in general showed he was ready to fight on a moment’s notice.  
We both knew the fight would start soon.  
 _Really_ soon.  
He had understood I was attacking _him_ \- not his territory - and that I planned to attack in the very near future – just like I knew he would switch to an offensive strategy if I didn’t disengaged _now_.  
We both knew the fight would happen in a few tens of seconds, tops. The only question was who would make the first move.  
I decided it would be me.  
As soon as he was between the park and me, I made a sharp turn and flew toward him at flank speed.  
So, this was it. The actual fight had now begun. And it could very well be the last one of my life.

Half a second before hitting him, I pulled up, turned upside down and dove toward his back. I raised my talons and focused on his spine. I knew what he would do next. At the last moment, he would roll and point his claws toward me.  
It was exactly what I wanted him to do: I had the mind of a human and I intended to make use of that. Unlike him, I could plan tactics in the heat of the battle. Unlike him, I could predict his moves well ahead. This dive wasn’t a real attack. It was a faint.  
Just as he started to roll on his back, I steepened my dive and retracted my talons; with the speed I was flying at, it wasn’t long before I was lower than my opponent. Before he could react and try to undo his mistake, I pulled up sharply until I was heading toward him and immediately flared while raising my talons. He was already rolling as quickly as he could but we both knew it was too late.  
Direct hit.  
For both of us.  
I couldn’t get away quickly enough and, if I still were a human, I would have screamed of pain as I had the “luck” to experience the size of Jacque’s talons in my flesh.

Unlike what I would have done six weeks ago, I continued my climb and leveled off after a few meters and didn’t lose time to calm myself a little. Even if I was out of reach, I knew it would be a huge mistake: just because I couldn’t see or heard him and was out of reach (for now) didn’t meant the combat was over; the relative calm was just an illusion – from experience, I could tell he was on my six o’clock at roughly the same height.  
I turned around and went straight for him. Just like my previous attack, I made a faint attack from above and dove in front of him before pulling up sharply toward him. However, I didn’t attack. Even if I had a nice opportunity to rip some flesh, I deliberately shoot up from his six O’clock and continued the loop I had started until I my target was in sight. Without even bothering to turn upside up again, I dove toward Jacque’s right wing. If I had still had a mouth (and didn’t felt the pain of my injury), I would have smiled. Jacque hadn’t expected that and, by now, it was too late: I would hit his wing. I rolled over at the last moment to point my talons my target and felt, with great satisfaction, my sharp claws collide with his wing.  
I knew he wouldn’t stay in the air for long. His wing wasn’t broken (unfortunately) but I had hit it hard enough to prevent sustained flight. Thought the fall wouldn’t hurt him, he was definitively going down. Unfortunately, the same was true for me. I had started my roll a little too late and, as a result, didn’t have the time to get my wing out of the way after the collision.  
Long story short, I had hit him with my wing was hard enough to render me incapable of flying; we both fell from the sky and, although we were able to slow down to an acceptable speed, we both knew the consequences.  
The fight would take place on the ground, where I had the advantage.

I stood up as soon as I landed (or, to be exact, rolled on the ground after a barely controlled landing) and turned around – I had enough experience to know where my foe would be without having to look around. A quick look at him made it evident I had reached the point of no return. Jacque had understood this was a fight to the death and none of us were able to fly in this state: we couldn’t disengage from the fight unless the other disengaged at the same time – something that seemed highly unlikely since each of us expected the other to fight to the very end.  
We faced each other for a few seconds. For those few seconds, no one really moved or tried to attack. For those few seconds, there was a complete and absolute lull.  
Then, I ran toward him and put an end to the lull.

The first thing I did was to try to grab his beak into mine – which, alas, failed miserably and ended with him biting my beak instead. I wasn’t thinking of my actions, anymore. I couldn’t afford the time. This was claw-to-claw combat on the ground. I was just thinking of the larger picture and allowed my instincts to guide my body.  
Don’t get me wrong. I was still aware of what I was doing and I still thought of what I wanted to do. The instincts – helped by my experience – were just (partly) in charge of the micromanagement. They blocked the attacks (well, tried to) and made sure I held my guard (and managed to do so most of the time).  
Me? I was doing the rest. I analyzed the situation, I found the openings, I attacked, I made (very) short terms strategies and, of course, I felt…  
There. An opening. I doubted the way to exploit it was very common in the avian world but it still had a chance to work.

I slapped Jacque with my wings and used his surprise to liberate myself from his hold. Without bothering to check how badly he had hurt me (I already knew I the injuries were severe), I lunged at his left wing, closed my beak on it and step on it with my right talon before placing as much weight on it as I could manage; I heard a satisfying cracking sound when his wing broke.  
He was doomed. He was a raptor with a broken wing. He couldn’t hunt and wouldn’t be able to fly away if a predator noticed him: if he weren’t eaten, he would starve to death and if he didn’t starve to death, a predator would eat him.  
Without really meaning to, I relaxed my attention for half a second – Antoine’s murderer was, at last, going to die. This error almost cost me my life: during that short moment where I wasn’t giving him my full attention, Jacque placed one of his talon around my head and, just like I would have done in his place, attempted to crush my skull. By the time I was able to throw my right talon at him and, in a moment of extreme luck, give a blow hard enough to pierce his body, the damages were already done: my left eye was busted and several cuts around my skull caused a good amount of pain( maybe a few fractures too). This was bad. The pain wasn’t bothering me much but the pierced eye was far more significant. Without it, I had lost a good portion of my field of vision as well as…  
Jacque attacked me from my blind spot. I barely had the time to raise my talons that I was already pinned on the ground by a bird much heavier than me; the only reason he wasn’t digging trough my vitals organs was that it required him to impale himself on my talons. (It didn’t mean, however, that I was completely out of reach or that he wasn’t able to give me a few blows from time to time: just that he wasn’t able to reach anything essential.)  
I was, of course, fully aware this was a perfect occasion to acquire him and use the trance to push him away – maybe even to kill him if I didn’t lose too much time. Yet, I didn’t. Even when I felt his sharp claws trough my flesh, I refused to use that tactic. I wanted a fair, raptor-to-raptor, fight. Unlike him, I wasn’t the kind of bird to attack defenseless eyases or to use an alien technology to put him into a trance and kill him while he was unconscious. Sure, sticking to that kind of principle might cause my death but there was I wouldn’t fall down to his level.

I also knew I wouldn’t be able to hold this position for a long time. I was already feeling weaker because of my numerous injuries and Jacque was simply too heavy for me. If I didn’t end this soon, I would become too tired to hold off his attacks and the fight would end in a draw – the kind of draw where everyone lose.  
I waited for him to launch another attack and, just as his chest was exposed, rammed my claws in his body; sadly, I didn’t manage to get deeply enough to kill him on the spot but, at least, it had convinced him to take a few steps back.  
Or try to.  
Before he could make those steps, I made sure to grab one of his legs with my right talon and use my left one to push him as hard as I could so he would trip and fall on his side. I quickly stood back on my talons and ran in front of him before forcing my claws in his broken wing to immobilize him only to make him roll on his belly before he could react.

I wouldn’t have another opportunity like that. Jacque was lying on the ground, weakened by his injuries, and his neck was exposed. Thought he was still fighting, I was able to remove my claw from his wing and rip some flesh out of his body to give him something to focus on. The rest was easy (compared to the rest of the fight, that is). He was, of course, wrestling but, by chance, his numerous injuries prevented him from stopping me from positioning myself next to his neck.  
He didn’t stand a chance anymore. I was in a perfect position to finish him. All I needed to do was to sever his spine with my beak, like I often did with pigeons. Sure, there was still the possibility he moved or attacked at the last moment but it wouldn’t change his fate. At worse, my beak would just hit flesh instead of a spine and I would simply make another attempt.  
I placed my right claw on him and concentrated on his DNA to put him in a trance.  
I knew I had won. I wasn’t using the morphing technology to win the fight: I was using it to make sure he wouldn’t move and make me miss his spine. I hated him, obviously, but my goal was to _kill_ him, not to make him suffer: I didn’t want him to move at the last moment and feel my beak pierce his skin if I could help it. It would just cause unnecessary suffering before my second attempt would end his life. While using the morphing power to _win_ the fight was out of the question, I had no objections to use it to guarantee a quick death once the fight was over.  
Thus, shortly after Jacque fell into trance, I swung my head and shattered his spine.

For a few moments, I just stared at his lifeless body, mesmerized. He was finally dead. Antoine’s murderer was dead and I was looking at his corpse. He would no longer attack anyone. It was too late for Antoine but Beatrice and Colin weren’t in danger anymore; Jacque wasn’t threatening them anymore. He wasn’t threatening anybody.  
Or…  
No.  
Who was I kidding?  
Jacque wasn’t threatening my family as much as I wanted to think. Sure, he did represent a risk by being a predator but he wasn’t the imminent danger I justified this fight with. My nest wasn’t that close from Jacque’s (former) territory, there were plenty of other opportunities that didn’t required as much travel and two falcons were protecting the nest. As a raptor, I knew the potential meal wasn’t worth the travel and even less being chased by _two_ angry peregrine falcons determined to protect their nest.  
Basically, I had just killed a bird for nothing.

The killing, in itself, didn’t bother me. After all, since my reserve of bacon ran out, I had to hunt my meals by myself – which, since I was a falcon, meant killing _at least_ a bird every days – and I sometime used lethal force against intruders; taking a life was no longer something that disturbed me.  
However, the _reason_ for the killing did bother me. Unlike the preys I hunted on a daily basis or the intruders I often took down, I hadn’t killed Jacque for survival. I hadn’t killed him to feed on him or to protect my nest.  
I had killed him for revenge.  
This wasn’t survival.  
This was flat-out murder.

I took a few steps back put some distance between the corpse and me. Even if I didn’t have any regrets over ending his life, it still disturbed me to know I had just committed a murder.  
Anyway.  
My job here was done.  
Time to go back home and have a good snack before the emotional aftermath of this fight would become too great for me to focus.  
Only when I lifted my head, ready to take flight, that I realized how violent the fight had been.  
Feathers littered the entire area – most of them too damaged to know whom they belonged to – and I could discern what looked like flesh not far from where I was. Jacque’s body was a complete mess, far worse than any of my previous kills: several feathers were missing, his right wing was nearly torn apart, his face was so damaged I only knew it was him because we were fighting each other less than a minute ago, his feathers were soaked in blood, his claws had turned red after being generously painted with my blood and bits of flesh (mine, probably) were still lodged in his beak.  
Thought I didn’t regret killing him, I did regret _how_ I had killed him.  
Maybe.  
I mean, fighting “raptor-style” without using the morphing power made the fight fair and left him a chance but…  
I don’t know. I just felt like no birds deserved such an ugly death and that I should have used the morphing power to end the fight quickly but, at the same time, I felt like all birds deserved a fair fight and not using the morphing power was the right thing to do.  
At least, the “fair fight” part was respected. Even if, at the end, I had won the fight, it had been a close call and none of us had an unnatural advantage over the other. In fact, the call had probably been _too_ close: my left wing was broken, my left eye was busted, my chest was covered in blood, a significant amount of my primaries were either destroyed or gone and I was loosing a lot of blood; if the fight had continued for just a few minutes, I wouldn’t be thinking of my victory but lying down in agony.

Ok.  
I had to stop thinking about all this for a while and go back home. It would be a shame to survive this fight only to be killed by a predator on my way back because I would be too distracted by this to pay enough attention to what was happening in the air.  
I looked around to make sure no one could see me, closed my eye (yes, singular) and focused on my human form: according to what I had been told, morphing would heal my injuries; something that was quite a necessity given there was no way I could fly with my broken wing.

As soon as the transformation was complete, I stood up and walked toward the forest. I had barely made a few steps when tears began to flow down my face.  
I couldn’t help but think about Antoine and how he had changed my life. When he had pierced his egg, my mind was a complete mess and seeing his little egg tooth crack the shell had allowed me to calm down long enough to plan for the future; I was no longer surviving to survive but to achieve something. Basically, along with Beatrice and Colin, he had given me a reason to live and a meaning to my life.  
In return, I had abandoned him.

Sure, I couldn’t blame myself for scrambling away the day Spirit came back. I had no ways to know he had accepted me and I knew he would kill – then eat – any birds trying to get in his nest without invitation.  
However, that didn’t meant I was right not to come back afterward. I had noticed Spirit hadn’t tried to chase me out while I was flying away, I had noticed he never screeched at me when I was straying inside his territory by accident, I had noticed he never attacked me when I ventured near his caches.  
I had noticed how he never acted aggressively toward me.  
All the signs were there, in plain sight. If I had paid attention instead of lamenting on being coerced into the avian life, I would have understood the obvious conclusion and moved in Spirit’s nest to help the eyases – like I had vowed to do when Antoine hatched.

But I hadn’t. As a result, the night Antoine died, I wasn’t in the nest to protect him but perched somewhere else to watch a movie projected on a beach; while I was enjoying an old movie, Antoine was feeling his body pierced by the claws of a bird he couldn’t even see.  
The few droplets of tears on my face turned into a river. I already knew Antoine had died because of me but killing the bastard who had dealt the final blow forced me to _realize_ it. If I had stayed with Spirit instead of going to the beach, I would have seen Jacque approach the nest and warned my friend soon enough to prevent Jacque from going anywhere near the nest.  
The river turned into a fall as I was forced to lie on my back by the crushing reality of what I had done.  
I had a responsibility toward the young birds in the nest and I had promised to protect them. Yet, instead of fulfilling my duty, I had preferred to go see a movie while being too stupid to understand Spirit would have chased me if he didn’t want me near his nest.  
How could I be so dumb? That was basic knowledge! Even when we first met as birds, I had more than enough experience in the avian world to understand that! I _should_ have come back!  
But, no. I had acted like a coward and fled somewhere else to fool myself into believing that dropping leftovers near his territory counted as “helping”.  
Because of that, and thanks to my cowardice and stupidity, Antoine was death. He would never see the sky. He would never see his family. He would never see what a pigeon looked like. He would never see what a grown-up peregrine looked like. He would never see how amazing our vision was. He would never see our distinctive pattern. He would never take his first flight and feel the pure joy of flying for the sake of flying. He would never dive at incredible speeds. He would never catch a pigeon. He would never fly out of the nest and find one of his own. He would never find a mate. He would never start a family.  
He would never be an adult.  
What kind of monster I was?  
What kind of bird left his family like that?  
Could I even claim to be a peregrine falcon when no peregrines would abandon their eyases without reasons?

I have no idea how long I cried. All I can tell is that it was long enough for me to become worried about the time limit and demorph as quickly as possible; which, at the same time, allowed me to let go of the stress that hadn’t been removed by crying.  
I took a few seconds to get used to my real body and flew back to my nest - not without wasting half an hour to soar in a few good thermals on my way there.

The two birds I had just risked my life for were devouring a delicious-looking pigeon when I landed inside the nest. I was always amazed at how quickly they had grown up. Just a few weeks ago, they were merely little balls of fluff barely strong enough to move or to eat by themselves and needed to be brooded them constantly. Now, they walked around the nest and, not only did they not require brooding but they were also too big for me to brood them – not to mention how they could pluck and eat their food by themselves.  
And, soon, they would taste the wonders of flight without having to worry about Jacque.

< Hey. > I told Beatrice and Colin. < When you two start flying, I want you to focus on _flying_ , ok? I’ll always be around to chase off anyone trying to hurt you. So don’t worry about being attacked, I’ll make sure you can fly in peace. >

I turned toward Spirit and used private thought-speech to make sure only he would “hear” me.  
< You know the great horned owl that killed one of us a few days after you came back? Well, he’s dead. I just killed him this morning. >

I wasn’t crazy. I knew they didn’t understand what I was telling them and wouldn’t answer. It just felt good to “talk” to them and imagine the thought-speech translated whatever I was saying in some kind of very basic “idea” my avian family could make sense of.


	25. Jacques' twin

I couldn’t sleep.  
I was a bird and I couldn’t sleep.  
Not in a metaphorical “birds don’t really sleep” sense. In a practical, real, sense. It was the middle of the night, and I couldn’t get into that deep-snooze state I was calling sleep.  
Not because there was a predator flying around. Not because there was a possible intruder venturing a bit too close to the territory’s borders. Not because a crow was eyeing at one of our food cache.  
No.  
It was because of what had happened today.  
Jacques.  
The fight.  
The murder.  
How I had killed another bird for no other reasons than pointless revenge.  
How I hadn’t hesitated to risk my life to commit a murder.  
How I… No... I hadn’t risked my life. I had lost it, in a way.  
After the fight, I had a broken wing and a busted eye. Both injuries, on their own, were serious enough to kill me. The only reason I had survived was that I could morph to heal my injuries.  
No, wait. That wasn’t _completely_ true. Being able to morph hadn’t saved my life: _knowing_ I could morph had.  
The only reason a predator hadn’t eaten me was pure luck. If I was still alive to perch in my nest, it was only because I happened to fly near the barn while Tobias was there _and_ that Jake happened to use a peregrine falcon morph _and_ that Tobias had been unsure if I was a random falcon or Jake in morph _and_ that the Animorphs – as the teenagers called themselves – had decided to tell me I could morph _and_ how to do it.  
If Jake had acquired any other birds than a peregrine falcon, I would have been dead.  
If I had been hunting in my territory instead of travelling, I would have been dead.  
If Tobias had spotted the differences between Jake and me, I would have been dead.  
If I had decided to ignore Tobias to contact him later, I would have been dead.  
If. If. If. If.

I looked at the two young birds behind me. They had almost died too, and not just when Jacques had attacked the nest. If it weren’t for me being chased by an alien, going paranoiac and getting in that construction site, they would have died of cold inside their eggs – or, if the weather was hot enough, died of hunger as no one would be around to feed them.  
In a way, it wasn’t different for Spirit. When we had first met, he was hiding inside a hole because he wasn’t able to take flight. If it weren’t for the chase and the paranoia that followed, nobody would have spotted him except a hungry cat – who, of course, wouldn’t say no to such an easy meal.  
I smiled inside myself. Somehow, it was comforting to think surviving thanks to incredibly unlikely events was a family thing.  
I ruffled my feathers and closed my eyes, hoping the comfort would be high enough to grant me some sleep. I slowed my respiration and focused on the pleasant sensation of the wind running on my feathers. Nothing else mattered. I was in my nest, with my family. The young birds were sleeping, and Spirit was standing guard with me. I had nothing to worry about. There was just the breeze caressing my feathers.  
And Jacques.  
Dammit.  
I opened my eyes and looked at Spirit. No ways I was going to sleep this night. I might as well do something instead of wasting my time like this.  
  
< Hey, I’m just going to fly a little, ok? I have some trouble sleeping and I need to relax a little. I’ll be back soon. > I told Spirit before taking off.  
It was a lie. True, I did have trouble sleeping and I did need to relax a little but this wasn’t why I wanted to fly at night.  
The real reason was simply that I wished to morph Jacques. To become him. To understand him and see the world from his perspective.   
But, of course, there was no way I could do that anywhere near my family. None of them knew about the yeerks or my morphing ability and I didn’t want them to get worried or scared if they saw a great horned owl flying around the nest. (Not to mention how Spirit would probably attack me on sight.)  
So I flew away from my nest for a few minutes and, once I was sure I was too far to be seen, landed on the roof of a building. Some kind of warehouse, I think.  
I wasn’t sure what to expect. I mean, yeah, I knew morphing gave you the instincts of the morphed species and I had a reasonable idea of what the owl’s instincts could be but I had no idea how it would be like to actually have “new” instincts. Anyway, I would know soon enough.  
I focused on my old enemy and waited for the transformation to finish.

It took me a few seconds to realize the instincts had kicked in. Not because I was too overwhelmed by them to realize it or because I was distracted by something or anything of the like.  
Simply because there was nothing to notice.  
Simply because I was morphing a fellow raptor.  
Simply because the instincts I “received” were no different than my normal instincts; all that changed was the hunting style (slowly sneaking on the prey instead of chasing them at flank speed) and the choice of preys (rodents instead of tasty pigeons).  
I looked at “my” body.  
I was still a bird. I was still a raptor. Apart the size and the colors, there were no differences with my real body. I still had feathers, I still had wings, I still had an amazing eyesight and I still had sharp claws meant to cut trough skin.  
Since the very day I had noticed Antoine’s death, I had demonized Jacques. I had continuously imagined him as some sort of demonic bird gorging himself with babies and used that image to convince myself he had to die; after all, he was evil and his death could only be a good thing.  
But now, I had no choices but to realize how mistaken I was. Sure, what he did was wrong, but, in the end, he was just a raptor doing his best to survive.  
Like me.  
I had to stop fooling myself. What I had done was also wrong. I shouldn’t have killed Jacques. Not when several weeks had already passed. I should have left him alone and focused my efforts on making sure Beatrice and Colin could learn to fly in a safe environment.  
Not that I had any real regrets over it. Or that I wouldn’t do it again.  
Anyway.  
What was done was done. It was time to turn the page and pass to another chapter.

  
I walked to the edge of the roof, spread my wings open and took off. I already knew where to go: Cassie’s house. If I was to stay awake all night, I might as well go see someone to show I was still alive.  
I wasn’t sure why I wanted to see _her_ in particular. She wasn’t the only Animorph – as they called themselves – and, except Tobias, she was the farthest away from my current position. Yet, it was her I wanted to see. Maybe I just wanted to talk to someone and knew Cassie would understand my feelings?  
If that was the true reason, maybe it was a better idea to go see Tobias? We both lived in the same world _and_ we both used to be humans. He wouldn’t have any troubles understanding whatever I would talk about – let it be about the raptor world or the “ex-human” world.  
On the other claw, going there wouldn’t be as easy. Even if owls had an _excellent_ night vision, I wasn’t used to fly as one and, although I would probably be able to land on a tree at night without problems, I didn’t want to make my first attempt at it when I was tired and distracted. Not to mention how I might scare him since owls sometime attacked hawks.  
(And no. Going as a peregrine wasn’t an option. Even if I could see well enough to hunt some preys, I wouldn’t try myself at landing in a forest I barely knew).

Three minutes later, I landed on a tree next to what looked like Cassie’s bedroom. Yeah, I know, that’s a long time. But, what do you want? It’s hard to go anywhere quickly when you have a big, flat, face slowing you down.

< Hey, Cassie. You’re there? >  
I regretted saying that as soon as she sat up. Or, more exactly, regretted waking her up. She was a human, not a bird. She needed some time to fall asleep and a longer, uninterrupted resting period.  
But, of course, I was too used to my bird life to remember that detail.  
< I… I’m the owl. I acquired Jacques before killing him > I said as she walked to the window, obviously exhausted. < I just wanted to say I survived the fight. >  
“It’s the middle of the night, Busa.” She said after opening the window.  
< Yeah, I know. Sorry. I know it will seem ridiculous, but I didn’t think I would wake you up like that. I’m too used to the bird-sleep. >  
“That’s not what I meant.” She said. “I know the fight didn’t last the whole day. Why didn’t you come sooner?”  
I closed my eyes for a few seconds. Talk about understanding my feelings. I hadn’t even opened my beak yet and she already knew why I was here.  
< I also wanted to talk. But, since it’s the middle of the night and it’s nothing urgent, I’ll just wait until tomorrow. Sorry for waking you up. >  
“Don’t go.” She said before I could even spread my wings. “ You woke me up in the middle of the night and morphed an owl you hated and fought to death. You _need_ to talk and it _is_ urgent.”  
I took a long pause before answering. She was right. I didn’t _want_ to talk: I _had_ to talk.  
< Ok, fine. Where do you want me to start? >  
“By this evening. We had a meeting, remember? Why didn’t you show up?”  
Shit. The meeting. I had completely forgotten about it. Was I _that_ unused to follow strict schedules? Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me. As a wild bird, I wasn’t bound by any artificial time constraints; except, of course, the day/night cycle and the weather.  
< I simply forgot there was one. >  
I looked at my claws. They weren’t really different from my normal ones, apart the size.

  
< I… The fight. It was ugly > I said after staring at Cassie silently. < And… I should have died. I had a broken wing and my left eye was busted. Like… If it weren’t for the morphing power, I wouldn’t be here to talk to you. >  
I expected her to say something. To say attacking Jacques was stupid. To say I should have listened to her and left him alone. To say I had to remain “human”. To say I wasn’t 100% falcon and would never be.  
But she didn’t. She just stayed silent. And listened.  
< You were right. I couldn’t win against a great horned. And it wasn’t protection. Just… revenge. Murder. >  
I looked at my claws again. Jacques’ claws. Less than a day ago, they were used against me in a deadly fight. A fight I had begun because a bird I considered to be part of my family had died.   
And I had been a bird for just two months. Two months. Two months and I was already willing to risk my own life for another bird. Two months and I was already thinking of myself as a real raptor. Two months and I already saw three birds as my family.  
Two months ago, I would have called myself crazy and asked for professional help.  
Maybe I _was_ crazy.  
Unless it was perfectly normal and the whole thing was just me adapting to my new situation.

  
< Am I crazy? > I asked without transition. < I mean, if I didn’t know how to morph, I would have died today. I would be dead after attacking some random owl because he killed a bird. >  
“But you _knew_ you could morph to heal your injuries. You _knew_ you would be able to survive any injuries so long you managed to stay alive for more than a few minutes. Attacking Jacques might not have been very smart, but it wasn’t crazy at all. “  
I stayed silent for a few seconds.  
< I was planning to kill him long before meeting Tobias. I was ready to die in that fight. I would have attacked him, morphing power or not. When I say I would have died today, I mean it. If I hadn’t met you, I would be dead. >  
“You’ve been a falcon for two months and you took care of those birds since their births. What you did might be reckless, but it wasn’t crazy.”  
I took a long pause. It… made sense. I was a falcon, not a human. Not acting “human” was perfectly normal.  
Yet… It still didn’t _felt_ normal.  
< Hey, can you keep a secret? > I asked < It’s not something that would put anyone in danger. >  
“Sure, what is it?”  
< So, if I told you my name, you wouldn’t repeat it to the others? >  
“No.”  
< It’s Christopher Roger. > I told her. < I… I just want someone to know it before I die. I mean, I can’t turn back into my old self so nobody’s going to know that “Christopher” is dead since my “old” body will never be found. So, yeah. when I die, could you please make sure nobody is searching for me? >  
“Ok, wait.” She said as he went to her desk to grab a pen and a piece of paper. “Do you remember your social security number? It’ll be easier to track your relatives with it.”  
I would have smiled if my “mouth” weren’t so solid. It was quite kind of her to think of that small detail _and_ to actually do something about it.  
< Yes, it’s 078-05-1120 > I said. < And, thanks. >  
“No need to thank me. It’s nothing.”  
< I’m thanking you anyway. It means a lot to me. > I told her.  
There was a short silence. Clearly, none of us had anything else to say.  
< So, huh… I guess I’ll go now. >  
“Before you go, we planned another meeting tomorrow, at ten. Want to join us?”  
< Yeah, sure. Why not? > I answered.   
“Just don’t forget to show up, this time.”  
< Don’t worry. I don’t have any plans for tomorrow, so I should be good. > I said as I turned around and spread my wings. < Have a good night and sorry again for waking you up. >  
“It’s ok. Good night to you too.”  
  
I took off in the dark night and headed toward my territory, making sure to stay out of my family’s sight until I had fully demorphed.


End file.
